


You and Me Ever Changing

by SparrowPixie



Series: To Be Near You [2]
Category: The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty
Genre: AU, Adventure & Romance, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Empire of Gold AU, F/M, Humor, Kingdom of Copper AU, Some Plot, okay Chakraborty but what if we did it this way, please let these two have a world where they get all the adventure and are happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 11:07:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 76,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25968616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparrowPixie/pseuds/SparrowPixie
Summary: Set in my COB AU: Dara and Nahri have escaped to the mountains of rural Daevastana and must make a life for themselves. A series with some plot where Dara and Nahri navigate healing people of all tribes, atoning for crimes and defend their home from ifrit (will develop an actual KOC plot towards halfway point)
Relationships: Darayavahoush e-Afshin/Nahri e-Nahid, Jamshid e-Pramukh/Muntadhir al Qahtani, Kaveh e-Pramukh/Manizeh
Series: To Be Near You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884808
Comments: 87
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who read "Your Hand in Mine" - If you haven't, this won't make a whole lot of sense to you and I recommend you take a looksie as it's the first part in this series - thanks!

Nibet knew this baby was coming. She could feel it in her back, in her stomach, even in her knees. 

Or maybe it was the ten days on horseback from Tehran. 

What she wouldn’t give for some comforting words from Viren right now. Her partner always knew exactly what to say. Maybe she should have taken her chances and brought him along after all.

"No," she scolded herself. _"He would’ve been stolen away to Daevabad. Himself, you and your child all confined to the shafit quarter."_

And having lived her first quarter-century in Daevabad, Nibet was only too aware of how well her shafit partner would be treated by the residents of the city. She could protect herself and her child, maybe convince the king to let her stay in the Geziri or Tukharistani quarter, but with Viren it would be a hard sell. 

Nibet winced as her horse started up the rocky slope, jostling her. In the distance, she could see a break in the thick tree line. Beyond that, it was difficult to make out. Hopefully, the rumors had put her on the right track. They said that the best healer in the djinn world was tucked away in the mountains of northern Daevastana with her loyal protector.  They were her safest option. The people of Tehran - their healers - couldn’t even _see_ Nibet , much less deliver a baby for her.

Panic briefly washed over her as she got closer and closer to the break in the tree line. What if she had been going the wrong way? What if the rumors weren’t true? This baby was coming.  _ Now.  _ She didn’t have time to have made a mistake here.

The cold wind sent a chill down her spine. Nibet drew the felt blanket on her shoulders tighter around herself. She very much missed Viren’s hot, human land right now. Tears pricked her eyes, a lump formed in her throat. It was unlikely she would ever lay eyes on him again.  But she couldn't afford to get caught up in that right now. 

She swallowed hard and straightened up on the saddle, then a sharp pain shot through her stomach making her gasp. She was running out of time. Creator, she hoped-

_ “Stop.” _

Nibet blinked away the tears and tried to find the source of the voice.

From the trees emerged a man swathed in dark traveling clothes, a silver bow in his hands trained on her. Nibet clutched the reins tightly, her knuckles white. 

“You’re him, right?” Nibet panted.

“ _I_ am asking the questions,” he said firmly. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here… to see the Banu Nahida…”

“Obviously,” he said, crossing the rocky path so he stood directly in front of her and her horse. “For what?”

Nibet, too exhausted to speak, let the blanket fall from her shoulders to put her distended stomach on display. The man’s eyes widened in alarm and he quickly unwound the wrap obscuring his face. 

If the remarkable handsomeness wasn't indicator enough, the Afshin tattoo on his temple confirmed that this was indeed Darayavahoush.

Walking to her side, his hand traced her back and stomach then checked the contents of her rucksack. He slung the bow of his back.

“Apologies, I had to make sure you weren’t armed,” the Afshin said. 

Nibet let out a mirthless laugh and placed a hand on the side of her belly.  “No, I promise you this is one hundred percent real.” She looked deeper into the dark black of his eyes, her head tilting slightly. "She really _did_ do it then. You're mortal. I had heard- agh!"

She felt the familiar surge of pain deep in her stomach again. The Afshin took her hand quickly and she squeezed his knuckles tight. When the discomfort had passed she released her grip on him.

“I will take you to the Banu Nahida. Try and lean forward,” he said calmly, taking the reins.

He began to slowly guide the horse up the rocky path. She leaned forward against the mare’s neck, as much as her stomach would allow her. Inwardly, Nibet wished the Afshin would move with haste. This must have been evident from her loud sigh as he said:

“If we move faster we could induce labor. You’ll have to be patient-“

“I’m already in labor,” she said heatedly.

The Afshin shook his head, eyes still set straight ahead. “Perhaps, but this could be false labor. Try and regulate your breathing. Inhale for two seconds then exhale for two seconds. Focus on that.”

“You sound… knowledgeable,” Nibet said, practicing his instructions. “You must… have experienced this… Do you have… children?”

“No, the Banu Nahida and I have no children.”

“You are married… and you still call her… Banu Nahida?”

He chuckled. “She will always be my Banu Nahida. And Nahri is not quite a quarter-century so she has another three months before we can wed.”

“You find that amusing?”

He glanced back at her, the corner of his lip hitched up.

“I find it amusing that every day I receive a countdown on long I have till I am obligated to accept her proposal. What is your name?”

“Nibet.”

“Nibet, I’ll ask you to maintain your breathing or the Banu Nahida will be cross with me,” he said with a sheepish smile. “Just close your eyes and focus on counting the breaths.”

Nibet obeyed without question, her eyelids happy to surrender. It couldn’t have been for more than a moment or so, but Nibet dozed off only to be roused by the Afshin’s voice.

“We’ve almost arrived, Nibet.”

Nibet forced her eyes open to see they had broken through the tree line. Ahead of her was a modest two-story house with a small stable and stone well.

The Afshin guided the horse to a post, fastening the reins to it. He reached up to Nibet, placing one hand on her back and the other beneath one of her knees.

“Try to lean onto me,” he said. 

When Nibet hesitated he shook his head.

“I assure you that I will catch you.”

“I’m pretty heavy, Afshin.”

He snorted. “I’ve carried heavier. Please.”

In no position to argue, Nibet leaned into the Afshin’s arms. To her pleasant surprise, he caught her deftly and started towards the wooden front door of his home, shouldering it open.

“Nahri, you have a patient!” he called.

Down the short entrance hall there came a clatter, then the Banu Nahida herself appeared. Her hair was in a wild array of curls making it clear to Nibet that she had not been seeing patients today. The Banu Nahida beamed at her wiping her hands on the slate grey fabric of her abaya. 

“Right this way,” she nodded gesturing around the corner. 

The Afshin, still carrying Nibet, followed his Banu Nahida into a living area. To her surprise, it was very cozy for the home of two recluses. A shabby carpet beneath a weathered table low to the ground surrounded by four plump cushions. A crackling fireplace and tapestries of varying fashion lining the walls.  Most likely gifts from patients, Nibet guessed

They entered a small white room with a cot, a desk, a shelf stocked with herbs and cups, and a cabinet filled with bandages and towels. A makeshift infirmary.

The Afshin gently set Nibet on the cot. She had forgotten how good a soft bed felt after nights of sleeping on her battered mat in the desert. 

“I trust Darayavahoush has been ensuring you maintain a breathing pattern…”

“Yes, my Banu Nahida,” he replied looking to Nibet with a smirk. “Most ardently.”

The Banu Nahida nodded as she tied an apron around her waist and grabbed a washcloth from her cabinet. She dipped it in a basin of water on her desk then wrung it out. 

“How much pain are you in?” Nahri asked, carefully placing the damp cloth on Nibet’s brow. 

Nibet gritted her teeth. “A lot.”

“I’ll make you some willow tea. It’ll ease the pain,” the Banu Nahida said simply.

Nibet closed her eyes but could hear Nahri bustling about, jar tinkling, water sloshing, her footsteps hastening.

“Dara, I need-“

“Water from the well, boiling hot. I’ll be back shortly, my love.”

More footsteps as the Afshin departed.

“What was your name?” asked Nahri.

“Nibet.”

“Do you mind if I ask where the father is.”

Biting back a cry of agony, Nibet hesitated to answer. Then again, the second the Banu Nahida and Afshin saw the rounded ears they would know who the father was.

“He’s in Tehran.”

“Oh, human?” 

Nibet shook her head against the pillow. “Shafit.”

“Why didn’t he come along?”

Nibet growled in irritation. “Maybe we can discuss this later?”

There was a pause.

“Of course. I’ll return with your tea. Keep breathing, Nibet.”

The warm tone of Nahri’s voice sent a pang of regret through her. Perhaps the Daeva woman really did mean well.

No. Regret was not something she could afford to feel right now. She needed to focus on her breathing. She needed to push Viren far from her thoughts. Now was not the time.

“Nibet, I’m going to help you sit up to drink the tea, alright?” Nahri said re-entering the room.

Nibet opened her eyes as Nahri appeared at her side, bracing a hand on her lower back and helping her up into a sitting position. Nibet tried to ignore the stab of pain in her gut.

“It’s hot,” the Banu Nahida cautioned raising a steaming cup to her lips.

Nibet hadn't realized how cold or thirsty she was till she took her first sip of the tea. It burned her throat but she soon had gulped down every drop. 

“It should kick in in about ten minutes.”

Nibet nodded. 

“I’m going to see how dilated you are, Nibet. Please spread your legs.”

Nibet did as she was instructed, clutching at the sheets as pain spread through her legs.

“Have you delivered… shafit before?”

“Of course,” Nahri scoffed. “The process is no different for any tribe or species. I assure you.”

“I know that… wasn’t sure… if you did.”

Nahri cocked a brow, her lips flattening. “Surely you’ve heard the rumors that my Afshin and I treat all races, all tribes and _all_ blood types with fairness…” said the Banu Nahida sternly. 

“I wasn’t sure about the Afshin.”

“My Afshin does not mean harm to you, your partner, or your child."

Anger flared in Nibet. “Well maybe you two can find it in your heart to allow me and my child to leave here and not whisk us away to suffer in Daevabad - agh!” Nibet hissed, a wave of throbbing pain hitting her.

“I’d say another hour,” Nahri murmured to herself. She gently closed Nibet’s knees then knelt at her side, dabbing the sweat on her brow. “We _have never_ and _will never_ force a fate on our patients that they do not want. Our involvement in your life begins and ends in this house. Do you understand?”

There was an edge to her voice but it was more maternal than angry. Like a mother protecting their child. Nibet could only nod in response.

“Good. The last thing you need to do now is worry about hypotheticals that will never be,” the Banu Nahida said. “Please rest, I’m going to sanitize my equipment. You are in good hands, Nibet.”

When Nibet awoke the next day, it took a few seconds to remember where she was. Someone had changed her clothes. They had been soaked with water and blood after she’d given birth.

_ My baby.  _ Nibet clambered out of the bed, a sharp pain wrenching between her legs. She pushed it to the back of her mind.

How dare they. Her child was probably halfway to Daevabad now. 

No, the Afshin was probably rushing to Tehran to capture Viren first. 

Nibet staggered out of the infirmary, her nostrils flared as she struggled to breathe evenly.  At the end of the living room stood the Banu Nahida. Before Nibet could hurl an insult at Nahri, she had turned to reveal she was holding a bundle in her arms, a glass bottle in her hand filled with a milky grey mixture.

“Oh, good! You’re awake,” Nahri exhaled. She crossed to Nibet, a smile that nearly split her face in two breaking on her lips. “Here is your son.”

Nahri shifted her arms so that Nibet could better view his face. His skin was matte brown, much like Viren’s and his ears were rounded. He certainly looked shafit. Nibet’s eyes locked with Nahri’s.

“Give him to me,” she said through clenched teeth.

Nahri’s eyes narrowed, she released an irritated sigh.

“Get back into bed and you can hold him. You’re not strong enough to keep standing like this.”

Nibet held Nahri’s gaze. The young woman seemed honest enough. Besides, Nibet wasn’t in a state to throw punches right now. With a sneer, Nibet turned around and hobbled back to the infirmary, nearly stumbling onto the cot.

“He’s hungry but very quiet. I have a nutrition mixture I’ve been giving him but it’s no substitute for mother’s milk,” noted the Banu Nahida. “Here.”

Slowly and gently, she placed the bundle in Nibet’s arms. Nibet fought the urge to squeeze her son tightly to her chest in an effort to protect him from being ripped away. Instead, she opened the fold of her shirt and slipped her breast into the baby’s mouth, her eyes still trained on Nahri.

“Nibet, no one is going to take your baby. We do not care that he is shafit.”

“Oh? Not even… The Scourge?” Nibet whispered.

Nahri flinched. “He is not the man he was fourteen hundred years ago. Surely you’ve heard that he’s aided me in healing people of all tribes and _bloods_.”

Nibet had heard the rumors of the _reformed_ Scourge of Qui-Zi but they were difficult to believe. She raised her chin a fraction, however Nahri looked not at all swayed.

“Dara has blood on his hands, but he is outside right now nursing your horse back to health and afterward he’s going to the Daeva towns to gather dinner for you. He’s worried that our typical meals won’t be enough for you to regain your strength,” she said placing her hands on her hips. “That’s an awful amount of trouble for him to go through if he were just going to kidnap the lot of you and throw you through the veil, ya?”

As much as Nibet did not like to be wrong, she couldn’t help but acknowledge that she _did_ take comfort in the Afshin’s efforts to ensure she was cared for. Perhaps he truly meant no harm. 

“I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow,” Nibet said, looking down at her child.

“No, I recommend at least four to five days rest before you set out on a ten-day journey to Tehran,” scoffed Nahri. “You’ll stay here until you’re healthy.”

“Sounds like I’m your prisoner…”

The Banu Nahida shot her an annoyed look. “You’re my patient. The door is open if you really want to leave… but you’ll be endangering your life and the baby’s…”

Nibet grew silent, her lips pursed. So there was truly no danger here. Just the sarcastic Banu Nahida and her Afshin. Perhaps Nibet had let her fury and anxiety carry her away. Perhaps she’d been spitting in the face of two people trying to help her. 

Nibet cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

Nahri grinned at her, looking enormously pleased with herself. “You’re welcome. Let me know when you’d like me to take him so that you can rest. I’ll just be in the next room if you need me, alright?”

Nibet nodded. The Banu Nahida left.

Over the next few days, the Banu Nahida received two more patients. A Daeva man with iron poisoning and a Sahrayn woman whose hands had been turned into flowers.

Nibet had been relocated to the guest room upstairs. Inside were two beds, each dressed in warm handmade blankets. The Afshin had also provided a woven basket for her child to sleep in.

Her child who she had yet to name. It didn’t feel right without Viren and knowing that she would indeed see him again, she chose to wait before making a decision.

Nibet spent her final night with Dara and Nahri as she had the last five. Enjoying a quiet dinner by the fireplace. Her baby slept soundly in the basket.

“Viren was very protective throughout the pregnancy - even though no one in his village could see me,” Nibet remarked, a finger tracing the gentle slope of her baby’s cheek. “I imagine he’ll be furious when I return after vanishing for almost a month…”

Dara waved an errant hand. “Nonsense. The moment he lays eyes on his son all of his anger will dissipate. You’ve nothing to fear.”

“Aye, Nibet, this is coming from the man with the worst temper in Daevastana. You can take comfort in knowing that not even _he_ would be angry in Viren’s shoes.”

Dara raised a brow at Nahri. “ _You_ are a different story, Banu Nahida. Likely if you pulled something like this it would’ve been for no reason and I would’ve explicitly asked you not too. Nibet was being noble,” the Afshin said, raising his goblet of wine to her.

In the past few days, Nibet had learned that Darayavahoush was an unexpectedly light-hearted man. She could plainly see he carried centuries of grief on his back, but for the most part, he was always willing to lend a hand and usually had something charming or humorous to add to the conversation. 

That said, it was still surprising whenever he had a kind word to say about Nibet - a djinn who had a child with a shafit living in a human village. 

“Do you ever think you’ll move into a Daeva town? You may grow tired of being invisible to everyone around you. I find it most unpleasant myself,” Dara said grimly.

Nibet paused thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t call myself social, but perhaps, yes. Some day.”

“Are you sure you feel well enough to leave tomorrow?” Nahri asked.

Nibet nodded, her eyes still on her child. The thought of seeing Viren was enough to encourage and reinvigorate her. The way his eyes sparkled when he smiled. She wondered what he would look like as he laid eyes on his son.

The next morning Nibet found Dara at the stable feeding her horse, murmuring under his breath with a soft smile.

She approached him with quiet footsteps, hiking the basket holding her baby up higher on her shoulder.

“Good morning.”

The Afshin startled slightly and faced her. “Oh, good morning. I was just ensuring she was up to today’s journey. I think she will do fine.”

Nibet noticed the blush that stole his cheeks and fought off a snort. 

“Thanks. I’ll probably be on my way soon… Where did you put my bag?”

“Ah, yes. A moment,” Dara said, leaving and reentering the house.

He emerged a few moments later with her bag and a very thick bed mat rolled under his arm. “There’s food, a waterskin, some kindling and felt in your bag. I saw your mat was worn so I’ve provided one of our spares,” the Afshin said securing the bag and mat to the horse’s saddle. 

“That’s very kind of you.”

“And,” he added, pulling a long roll of fabric from the bag. “I’m going to help fasten your child against your back with this. Pay close attention so that you can do it on your own, yes?”

Nibet nodded and removed her child from the basket. The Afshin explained the process as he carefully wound the fabric across her chest and over her shoulders and arms. 

“Very good then,” he remarked observing his handiwork. “Shall I help you onto the saddle then?”

As he hoisted Nibet onto the saddle, she was able to remember just how powerful and terrifying this man was. Darayavahoush lifted her as if she weighed nothing. 

Nahri exited the house, disrupting Nibet’s thoughts.

She extended a canteen. “Some willow tea for the road. Take it only before bed, never while on horseback,” Nahri advised tucking it into her bag. 

Nibet gripped the reins, gnawing on her lower lip. She was not good at saying goodbye.

“I suppose… well, I wish there was something I could do for you-“

“ _Bah_ ,” the Afshin said, dismissively. 

“Just pass along your story. Make sure people know they can come here-“

“Aye...” Dara cut off. “Make sure  _ people you trust  _ know they can come here.”

“Obviously,” drawled Nahri. She leaned towards Nibet. “Sorry, he is protective.”

Dara snorted, rolling his eyes. “Alright, farewell, Nibet, and son.”

He gave the Banu Nahida a playful shove and walked around the back of the house.

Final parting words were exchanged with the Banu Nahida and Nibet set back off down the trail towards Tehran and Viren.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nahri's quarter-century is approaching and with it a letter from Daevabad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to my soft sappy fanfiction

Nahri was grinding at a particularly strong pearl with her mortar and pestle at her work desk. It may have proved frustrating any other day, but today she was particularly anxious, and pounding the hell out of a gem seemed as good an outlet as any. 

Over the past four years and eleven months, Nahri hadn’t proposed to Dara again. Not since that night in the Grand Temple so long ago, but marriage had come up in passing. He’d spoken animatedly of an Afshin wedding that had sounded perfect to Nahri. 

A small ceremony with a short guest list, food, and wine. It was the perfect wedding for two people doing their best to stay out of the public eye.

In just two days, she’d be a quarter-century old. Legally able to marry. As such, she planned to propose again. It was unlikely her Afshin would turn her down, but fear lingered in her of his rejection. He had no reason to turn her down. He was mortal now so there would be no guilt about conceiving to create more Nahids. They were away from Daevabad, so the danger of being executed was minimal. She was of age, so it was legal. 

And even so, with all of these reasons, Nahri was afraid of Dara rejecting her.

From outside she heard a booming laugh that she recognized to be Dara’s and the voice of a child.

“You assumed standing atop a goat would be comparable to mounting a horse?” Dara chuckled from the front door. 

“A horse was a very high place to start my training from, Dara!” the boy explained.

 _What’s Rahim done to himself?_ Nahri stood from her desk and rushed into the living room, hands on her hips, and bracing herself for whatever injury the eleven-year old Daeva boy was sporting.

To her surprise, he looked fine. Not a scratch. Both Rahim and Dara were staring at her with confused expressions.

“Nahri, Rahim was just telling me that he attempted to practice standing on horseback on a large goat,” Dara said with a sheepish smile.

“Are you injured?” Nahri asked.

The lanky Daeva boy shook his head. “No, Banu Nahida. The only injury I’ve suffered is my wounded ego.”

Dara snorted, giving him a pat on the back. “You are too young to suffer such an injury, Rahim.”

“Yes, tell that to the giggling girls in the village,” Rahim muttered. “I’ve come to deliver a message from Daevabad to you.”

Rahim stepped forward and offered a small scroll to Nahri bearing the royal seal. 

Dara’s brows briefly knitted together in concern as they always did when news of Daevabad arrived. Nahri had once teased him that it was a summons for his execution and the alarm in his eyes had been too real for her to ever jest about danger from Daevabad again. 

She felt a smile creep across her lips as her finger brushed over the royal seal again. It was too perfectly pressed to be anyone else.

_Ali._

She decided to read it after he had left, tucking it away in her pocket. “Thank you, Rahim.”

Dara placed a hand on Rahim’s shoulder. “Come, Rahim. I’ll make you something to eat before you head back to Safater. We’ll get something for your sister and mother as well.”

“Thank you, Afshin.”

Dara headed into the small kitchen with Rahim. Of the two of them, he was the better cook. Nahri had proven to be quite hopeless in the food department as a matter of fact. A meal prepared by Nahri usually consisted of manna and tahini. She followed the two of them, leaning in the doorway of the kitchen.

“You know that you could’ve come to me if you wanted to learn how to stand on horseback,” Dara said opening their cabinets and removing a jar of rice. “I imagine the aim is to be able to shoot from the position?”

“Yes…” Rahim admitted. “But I don’t know that you have the time to teach me.”

“He has nothing _but_ time,” Nahri grinned. “And cannot stop boasting that he and his people were ‘born in the saddle.’”

“The Banu Nahida is just envious because she couldn’t ride a horse if her life depended on it,” drawled Dara. “But she is correct nonetheless. I have nothing but time. Talk to your mother and we’ll go to the Gozan to practice, aye?”

Rahim beamed. “Yes, Afshin.”

Her heart pounding, Nahri unraveled the scroll in the privacy of her office. Dara was escorting Rahim back down the trail.

Her hands trembled with excitement as she flattened it on her desk.

_Nahri,_

_I hope that this letter reaches you before your quarter-century that I know is coming up soon._

_As such, I’m hoping you would like to meet me in Daevabad for lunch and some supplies to celebrate. I’ve also learned something that has been vexing me which I dare not put in writing. I could use your advice on how to proceed with this matter._

_I’ll be at the book stand in the Grand Bazaar every day at noon for the next six days awaiting your arrival._

_As usual, your return will remain a secret. Only I shall know._

_Your friend,_

_Ali_

Four years ago, her Afshin would’ve been terrified of Nahri visiting his ancestral enemy in the city they had fled. However, now, after many practiced years, Dara merely offered a gruff nod to the prince’s requests to see Nahri. 

They would place a protective curse on their home and then ride into the Daeva village to pass along word they would not be present to tend to any patients for the next few days. Then they’d continue onto Daevabad where Dara would patiently await her return in one of the caves lining the Gozan. 

Well, _one_ cave in particular. 

When Nahri would return to Dara she was often weighed down with books, herbs, and other supplies that the prince made clear were very exclusively for Nahri. _Not_ her Scourge. It was amusing to see Dara scowl and roll his eyes, muttering under his breath _“your Qahtani is a brat.”_ Then they would begin the journey home. 

It was six hours on horseback so they would need to leave early tomorrow. Now all she had to do was tell her Afshin and listen to his standard speech she could almost recite verbatim.

“You will cover your face so that you will not be recognized?” Dara asked scooping dinner onto her plate.

“Yes.”

“And no one shall know of your presence but Ali?”

“Not a soul.”

The crease between his brows deepened and Nahri fought off a snicker. Would he ever recognize that she was not a fragile piece of glass?

“And you will not cause a scene or go anywhere you may call attention to yourself?”

Unable to help herself Nahri cringed dramatically. “Well, I did want to go to the Grand Temple and climb atop your shrine for all the Daevas… I guess that _would_ be unwise, now that you mention it.”

Dara’s lips flattened into a line as he walked past her out of the kitchen and into the living room, taking a seat on the cushion at the table. Nahri joined him with a playful smile.

“Ya, Afshin. I’ll be careful. As always,” she said warmly.

“Alright, then we’ll leave tomorrow at dawn.”

“You know you don’t need to protect me so fiercely anymore?”

Dara arched a brow as he poured himself a glass of wine. “I beg your pardon, my _Banu Nahida?”_

“Oh, please,” Nahri grinned. “This isn’t the year 400. Consider yourself relieved of carefully guarding this Nahid.”

“I’m not protective of you because I’m an Afshin and you’re a Nahid - though I’m sure that may play a part on a subconscious level…” he mused to himself. Dara’s thoughtful expression turned knowing “I am protective of you because you are my wife and…”

Nahri’s eyes widened and a wicked smile broke out on her face. Dara looked puzzled, then rolled his eyes. 

“You called me your _wife_ ,” Nahri grinned.

“I… you practically are,” the Afshin admitted, picking at the remains of rice on his plate. “Not in the most traditional sense but… we live together. We are in love with one another. We are faithful to each other. That’s _essentially_ marriage.”

“I had no idea you were so well versed in the aspects of marriage…”

Nahri instantly regretted the words after they left her mouth. For all her teasing of his naivety and inexperience, there was some very real hurt there. Hurt she would’ve never known if not for the night he’d indulged so heavily in their wine stores and confessed to her that he regretted wasting his first mortal life for the Nahids. He had been only thirty when he was killed. Thirty and too heavily invested in being the weapon of the Nahids to find any sort of happiness for himself. 

She opened her mouth to apologize, but Dara raised a hand before she could speak. “You needn’t apologize.”

“It was insensitive,” Nahri muttered. 

“It was what I deserved for how I chose to spend my life. It was a lesson learned.”

“A hard lesson, Dara.”

“Which means it had a lasting effect. For that I am grateful, little thief,” he said with a wry smile. He cleared his throat in an attempt to start the conversation over. “I would like to point out that marrying you at the bare minimum age of a quarter-century feels… do you not feel like you are moving quickly?” 

Nahri scoffed. “Most women are married at sixteen or eighteen in Cairo. They don’t live quite so long as us so from your perspective they move quicker,” she explained. She swallowed the anxiety rising in her chest before asking her next question. “Do _you_ feel as though we’re moving fast?”

The Afshin let out a bark of laughter so strong that Nahri almost jumped. He shook his head. “I’ve waited a millennia to be married, little thief.” Dara’s smile faded and he flushed. Nahri suspected his admittance of being ready to marry was not something he would typically divulge. “Anyway, I will wake you tomorrow at dawn. You’ll celebrate your quarter-century a day early with your… _ill-tempered, rule-abiding_ prince.”

The sneer on his face made Nahri snicker.

“And your birthday we will spend together.”

“Did you get me a present?” Nahri asked, waggling her eyebrows.

Dara stared down into the contents of his wine glass, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I am… working on something.”

“May I have a hint?”

“Certainly not.”

“Is it a wedding ring?”

He snorted. “A what?”

“A _wedding ring._ In Cairo when there were weddings, the bride and groom would exchange rings,” she explained, arching a brow. “It’s a symbol of unity.”

“A frivolous and recklessly expensive display of affection,” the Afshin remarked off-handedly. He smirked at her. “I know not a single Daeva that marries with a ring. And I had no idea you were so knowledgeable about weddings. Did you attend many?”

She laughed to herself. How often he forgot her roots. 

“Your ‘little thief’ is speaking to you of jewelry and the first thought that comes to mind is that I was invited to intimate romantic celebrations?”

Dara flushed, offering a disapproving grin. “I take it that you _stole_ the meaningless symbol of unity from unsuspecting couples then.”

“Oh, those people could easily afford new ones,” Nahri said flippantly.

The Afshin’s brows furrowed, a tenderness reflected in his dark eyes. He reached across the table to take her hand letting his thumb slide over her knuckles.

“Are wedding rings important to you, my love?”

Nahri bit back another snicker and shook her head. “Not in the slightest, Afshin. Don’t worry,” she assured. Nahri narrowed her eyes playfully. “And you’re really not going to give me a hint?”

“No, Banu Nahida,” he whispered.

Dara threw back the rest of his wine and Nahri scowled. She did not like surprises. She had secretly hoped he would ask her what she had wanted as a gift so that she could try proposing yet again. 

Nahri still had two days for that opportunity though.

“Alright, if we’re going to be up at dawn we should go to bed.”

-Nahri frowned. “Right now? Before we’ve fucked?”

Dara let out a startled laugh. Her candor never ceased to result in his amusement. He was both impressed and fascinated by “the modern woman” she was. He stood and offered her his hand which she accepted with an exaggerated groan.

Dara gave her that charming grin that she knew had broken many hearts. “I said go to bed, not go to _sleep_ …”

The following morning, Nahri found Dara at their small stable stroking the horse’s face, murmuring what she assumed were words of encouragement for their long journey. His behavior around any horse was always a source of amusement. The Afshin always had a snarky retort on the tip of his barbed tongue for anything that was said to him… but only kindness for the horse.

Nahri stepped outside, a blanket still wrapped around her shoulders. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he said, turning from the horse to her. “Did you find the breakfast I made for you?”

“I did. The tea was perfect by the way.”

Dara smiled at her looking enormously pleased with himself. 

He was consistently a good cook, he never met a dish he couldn’t make or a tea he couldn’t brew. Nahri remembered how anxious he had been the first time he cooked without being able to conjure a meal or ingredients. He had to scavenge and shop and Nahri recalled a lot of despondent muttering.

 _“If I prove to be as hopeless as you with cooking then we will die of starvation…”_ he had said shaking his head.

“I’ll just place the security curse on the house and we can set off to the village.” Dara stroked the horse’s mane then looked her over with a warm smile. There was something more in his eyes, something hopeful. “You look beautiful.”

Nahri smirked and glanced down at her plain, navy blue abaya. “Whatever you say, Afshin.”

Normally, when they visited the small town of Safater to tell them they would be leaving for a few days (to scavenge for herbs, or wander the mountains, or many other adventures), Nahri would visit the local healer to check-in or shop at the apothecary, or say hello to some of the residents she had become familiar with.

 _This_ morning, Nahri was too sleepy to contemplate forming complete sentences and asked that Dara visit the village representative on his own while she waited with the horse. He almost too eagerly obliged.

Nahri leaned against the horse’s neck, her sleepy brain debating what had been on her mind since she’d received Alizayd’s letter. The dream she had had. Or rather the _day_ dream. The daydream of Dara joining her on this trip to Daevabad, sneaking into the Grand Temple on her birthday, and being married by Kartir. That was all she wanted. A quick simple affair between the two of them.

But bringing Dara into Daevabad was no small feat. While she could hide behind the veil of a headscarf, Dara’s features stood out. Even without his green eyes and his Afshin mark covered, every Daeva knew the face of the man who had a shrine in the Grand Temple.

Nahri dozed off and roused three times in the period that Dara was visiting with the village representative. The morning sun was rising higher and she began to actively hope he would exit soon. They still had another five hours to Daevabad and time with Ali was not only rare but difficult to obtain.

Finally, his form emerged from the small row of modest houses. He looked to be in rather a hurry. Probably realizing how late of a start they had.

“Took you long enough,” yawned Nahri. “I thought that Kaspar had proposed.”

Dara froze briefly as he placed a foot in the stirrup then shook his head, laughing softly. “Well, my apologies for keeping my Banu Nahida waiting. We’ll move faster than the sun. Are you holding on tightly?”

Nahri quickly scrambled to grab his waist, shutting her eyes tight and preparing for the break-neck speed Dara was capable of.

But the horse only trotted forward slowly and Nahri felt Dara’s back vibrate with laughter. “You know that for a con artist you are very gullible.”

Nahri swatted at him. “What sort of Afshin disrespects their Banu Nahida like this?”

“The same kind of Afshin who dares enter a relationship with a Nahid. A _very_ ill-behaved one.”

Nahri loosened her grip on his waist and placed her chin on his shoulder. She inhaled the smoky citrus scent that clung to his skin. Still intoxicating to her after all these years.

“I wonder what it would’ve been like if we’d both lived fourteen hundred years ago and been in a relationship,” Nahri mused.

Dara smirked at her over his shoulder. “Forbidden,” he said flatly. “And inappropriate.”

“Sounds like you wouldn’t have pursued me then…”

Nahri felt a little defeated at the idea of Dara not wanting to be with her in any timeline but quickly realized how irrational her displeasure was.

“I do not know,” the Afshin said as the horse cantered closer to the first mountain trail. “I was very devout. It’s why they chose me to lead.”

“I see.”

“But you are very persuasive, my thief. I would not be surprised if young Darayavahoush had been swayed by your sharp tongue.”

Nahri felt her cheeks heat up and a smile spread on her lips. “Are you saying that my rudeness would’ve wooed you?”

“Perhaps,” he grinned. “No one would have dared spoken to me as you do.”

“Please, you would’ve been a mark.”

“No, as a daughter of royalty you would not have _had_ ‘marks.’ You would have had no need.”

“True, but conning may have been a form of entertainment for me. From what I experienced, Royal life is dull.”

Dara snickered as they headed into the mountain jungle, green light filtering through the leaves and soft calls of birds echoing around them.

“I would not have allowed such amusement as your Afshin.” He glanced over his shoulder at Nahri again, the corner of his lips turning down in what looked like a realization. “Well, I suppose that may have been when I fell in love with you.” 

“Oh? Reprimanding me?”

“I have told you, Nahri. I have a weakness for you. Likely that would have been the top of a slippery slope for me. It would have started with me indulging your pension for troublemaking and then eventually evolved into an affair.”

“And then?” Nahri probed. 

“Well, and then I would have been executed and you assigned a new Afshin.”

Nahri nearly fell from the horse as she leaned around to look at him with wide eyes. He did not seem phased but stared down at her with a raised brow.

“You will fall if you don’t straighten up.”

Nahri righted herself with a grunt of effort. “Sorry, I just find it difficult to believe that if you were this _legendary_ Afshin they would’ve killed you for courting me…”

Dara shrugged lightly. “I don’t find it difficult to believe. They could’ve just replaced me. You would probably be under _heavy_ surveillance till your end days.”

To Nahri it seemed like their relationship would be a tough one in any world or timeline. That they had always been doomed to be star crossed lovers. 

She pouted. “Well, I don’t like that ending.”

“Then I shall write you a new one, little thief.”

She felt her heart flutter briefly. Her Afshin’s sudden bursts of romance always caught her off guard. Nahri’s hands traced the outline of his broad shoulders as she let out a loud yawn. “Go on then.”

“Give me some time to conjure a worthy enough ending,” he said quietly. “For now, just rest.”

Nahri nodded into Dara’s back and dozed off for the duration of the trip.

“So… do I tell him that I know?” Ali asked, peeling away the skin of his orange.

Nahri scooted back into the base of the tree they sat beneath, shrugging her shoulders and leafing to the next page of the book he’d bought her. One on iron poisoning. 

“Maybe I could tell Jamshid I know? He could tell me how to approach Muntadhir.”

“I dunno.”

“Maybe Zaynab knows. She could tell me what to do… but if she doesn’t know then I’m risking betraying Muntadhir’s trust. Father _cannot_ find out,” Ali exhaled stroking his beard. “What would you do?”

“Believe it or not, Ali, I have very little experience in family politics.”

“You are proving to be much less useful than I thought you would be, Nahri,” the Qaid murmured. 

“Is this how you speak to someone on their quarter-century?”

“Your quarter-century is _tomorrow_ , Banu Nahida and it is a pity I can’t persuade you to stay for it,” Ali said with a half-smile. His eyes glinted with mischief. “You are certain that you truly wish to depart and it is not the Afshin threatening you?”

Nahri gave him a look. Ali’s jabs at her Afshin were always said light-heartedly but she could feel the underlying tensions. She knew the two of them would never exactly be friends and that was fine, but she _did_ wish that Ali would stop assuming the worst of the man that she loved. Not to mention, she didn’t appreciate being seen as a woman who quelled to the whims of a hot-tempered lover.

As usual, this could all be read on Nahri’s face. Ali frowned in response.

“I’m… sorry. I only meant it as a jest.”

“I know,” Nahri nodded. “But if there’s any truth there, it says that you believe me to be some lovesick fool, Ali.”

Ali reached for her hand. “My friend, please rest assured that I still see you as the stubborn and ill-mannered Nahid I met all those years ago,” he said. His smile broadened at the quiet laugh this elicited from Nahri. “Who else could marry Darayavahoush e-Afshin?” 

“I am _not_ married to Darayavahoush e-Afshin.”

Nahri felt a small pang of sadness in her stomach as she thought about Dara waiting for her in the caves by the Gozan. How he _hadn’t_ accompanied her. How they _could’ve_ been married by Kartir in the Grand Temple tonight. She didn’t need anything extravagant. She didn’t particularly want a crowd observing. It only needed to be her, Dara, a priest, and the sky above.

“Nahri, I really am sorry-“

“No, Ali, it’s not you. I just… remembered something,” Nahri said flippantly. She could tell she hadn’t fooled him and decided to change the subject. “So Jamshid and Muntadhir? I like the pairing…”

Ali opened his mouth and Nahri could tell he was debating on whether or not to press her. She tilted her head to the side. Ali exhaled in defeat and shrugged his shoulders.

“Yes, I like the pairing as well but it is doomed,” Ali said. “Muntadhir is supposed to be married to a Daeva noble’s daughter next year. He can’t exactly marry Jamshid to produce a lineage as king…”

“Well, what if you became king instead?”

Ali’s eyes widened at her. He began to peel at the orange in his hand quicker. Nahri could see it. Ali as King of Daevabad. He was clever, he had ideas, he wanted better for the people. Not to mention, if Ali were king perhaps she could get a spot for her and her Afshin in Daevabad. She could practice medicine here with Nisreen again. 

Nahri raised her shoulders. “Well, you know that you would make a good king… and I doubt Munthadir would be upset in relinquishing his claim if it meant he could be with Jamshid.”

“What you are suggesting is dangerously close to treason…”

“But not _exactly_ treason,” she winked. At Ali’s distressed expression, Nahri softened her gaze. “Listen, I’m not an expert in this sort of thing but I think you should talk to Munthadir. He is your brother and I know that if I had a brother I would never want to be anything but honest with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try and get more out soon - I've written a lot but unfortunately, that means there is a lot to edit


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nahri and Dara celebrate her quarter century

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, Shannon Chakraborty mentioned on her Instagram that she was contemplating spending two weeks writing a marriage/proposal short that takes place with characters from the Daevabad trilogy that she could never share. It happened to coincide with me writing this chapter.

When Nahri stepped through the veil, she held beneath her arm two books and three scrolls. Slung around her shoulders was her saddlebag, packed to the brim with herbs, potions, and too much food for a six-hour journey back. She still felt the lingering press of Ali’s lips to her forehead as they said goodbye. Not knowing when either of them would meet again. In truth, there was no truce between ancestral enemies quite so sincere.

Nahri hiked over the dune then down to the rocky, sloping hill of the Gozan. The river beside her trickled loudly. It nearly lulled her to sleep standing up. While half of her day with Ali had been spent eating beneath the trees of the Geziri quarter gardens, her feet ached from their long walk through the city itself and she was still drowsy from the six-hour trip here. Just the thought of six hours back made her yawn.

Nahri continued down the pebbled walkway in search of the cave where Dara would be waiting. _Their_ cave from all those years ago. The cave where they’d shared their first kiss. The cave where they’d briefly hidden after their escape from Daevabad. The cave where he always waited for her after she visited Ali.

Their horse came into view, lapping up water from the river, tethered to a tree. Nahri gave his face a tender stroke and strapped her bag to the saddle, tucking away her scrolls and book. She clambered up the rocks to the cave. Inside her Afshin lay against the wall, sculpted arms crossed over his chest, and eyes closed as he slept soundly.

She knelt down beside him and let her fingertips comb his dark hair away from his face. He let out a soft groan of half-hearted protest and blinked awake. Even now, rousing from his sleep as a mortal man, he looked every bit the part of a dashing hero. She let her thumb trace over the small scar above his brow.

Dara glanced behind her and yawned. “Sundown already?”

“Indeed, Afshin. Have you been sleeping on the job?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. Would you care to join me?”

Nahri shook her head. “No, I’m eager to head home if my sleepy protector feels up to the task?”

Dara sat up straight, the corner of his lip hitching up. Nahri felt something deep in her belly uncoil and bit her lip.

“As my Banu Nahida commands,” he grunted, grabbing the back of her neck and gently pulling her towards him for a kiss. 

His warm lips brushed hers and a chill ran down Nahri’s spine. She straddled him abruptly, breath catching in her throat as his strong hands gripped her hips. Nahri leaned forward to steal another kiss, but when she pulled away, Dara was cupping her face in his hands, fingers delicately running down her cheeks.

“If you want me to take you back across Daevastana before your birthday, then I’ll need to save some of my strength.”

Nahri sighed in defeat, her lower lip coming out into a pout that made Dara grin. “Sometimes I really regret making you mortal.”

Dara chuckled as Nahri shifted off of his lap. He stood and offered her his hand, pulling her to her feet. Dara placed his hands on her waist, still smiling down at her in amusement. Nahri had to purse her lips to fight off the urge to match his expression.

“I regret to inform you that this trip would have exhausted me before too. Magic is taxing, especially with a thief that is also a picky eater,” he remarked. Dara reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair back into her chador, his eyes crinkled as his smile broadened. “I am supplied with endless joy by the fact I can still make you blush like this.”

The aforementioned act was so frequent and involuntary that Nahri hardly noticed anymore. She tucked her chin, eyes skyward once more as she shoved her Afshin away playfully.

“Ya, you are very charming, Darayavahoush. It’s _so_ attractive that you know it too,” Nahri drawled, exiting the cave. His laughter bounced off the walls behind her. “If you’re done being pleased with yourself, Ali gave me some food and I’m willing to share it with you.”

“And if I am not done being pleased with myself?”

Nahri crossed to the horse and opened the saddlebag before turning to Dara who was following her out of the cave, her eyes danced with a challenge. “Then you will starve to death.”

“And how will you make it home? Because if you are going to try to ride the horse back on your own you’ll need another set of hands to ensure you are fastened to it firmly.”

“My riding has improved,” Nahri lied, chin lifted indignantly.

Dara nodded, stroking the horse’s mouth. “Oh, yes. How silly of me. While we’re discussing the impossible, did I tell you that Jamshid is _not_ terribly in love with the emir?”

Nahri froze, her eyes widening. Dara looked to her, a knowing smile on his lips while he untethered the horse from the tree.

“Who told you?” 

“You did. Just now.”

“I didn’t say anything!” 

“I already had my suspicions,” Dara shrugged lightly.

“Well, _everyone_ who looked close enough had suspicions. You aren’t perceptive, so stop looking so smug.”

Dara snorted. “I suppose that was the news to which Alizayd was referring when he requested your audience in the letter?”

“It was.”

Dara grabbed Nahri’s middle, helping to hoist her onto the horse’s back then joined her. He turned the horse to start down the mountain path.

“So does the prince plan on running to his baba with this information?” 

Nahri let her chin rest on his shoulder and shook her head. “No, he just wants to discuss it with Munthadir.”

“Huh,” Dara muttered to himself. “I did not think Little Zaydi had it in him to break the rules.”

Nahri did not care for the judgmental tone of Dara’s words, but couldn’t help but agree. Ali wasn’t exactly the “love conquers all” type. 

“Well, the emir is supposed to marry a Daeva noble’s daughter soon.”

“My condolences to Jamshid,” Dara said sincerely.

“I suggested that Muntadhir relinquish his claim to the throne and let Ali be king instead.”

“Nahri,” the Afshin groaned. “You suggested treason in the name of love?”

Nahri scoffed immediately. “I apologize, are you really one to balk at the idea of treason in the name of love?”

A small silence transpired and Nahri could see her Afshin’s cheek lift in a surrendered smile. “That is fair… but Nahri, we were exceptionally lucky and aided by magic. Powerful magic. It is unlikely that Jamshid and Munthadir will yield such a happy ending on their own with the eyes of all the Daeva upon them.”

It was nearly midnight by the time Dara and Nahri arrived back at their home. He’d tied up the horse and sent her to visit the lake behind their house for a bath. 

She’d obeyed eagerly, knowing that a bath promised further action would be taken. Action she’d tried to start in their cave. 

Typically they bathed in the tub in the back hut of their home, but the lake was reserved for when there were other items on the agenda besides getting cleaned up.

Dara eventually joined her, setting his clothes beside hers on the bench. His aversion to water had dissipated over the years. He wasn’t exactly eager to jump into a river, but submerging himself in the lake behind their house was a small feat now. Especially with Nahri joining him.

Nahri was rinsing her curls, tipping her head back into the cool water.

“I’m still thinking about what you said about Jamshid and Munthadir. You never know, Dara. Stranger things have happened,” Nahri shrugged. “Like a shafit girl summoning a djinn in Cairo’s graveyard.”

He stepped behind her, combing his fingers through her hair and rinsing some of the water out. His voice was soft. “You really _do_ believe that you are shafit then? That there is no marid curse upon you?” 

This topic had come up a handful of times since they’d left Daevabad. Could Ghassan be trusted? Or was he only conjuring up the myth of a “marid curse” to ease relations between the Daeva and Djinn? They may never know, but Nahri felt deep in her gut that she was shafit. It was a simple explanation and in all her research in all these years she’d found nothing of marid curses like this. 

She had never asked Dara his opinion on the matter, but he didn’t really seem to care. Or at least that was the impression she got.

“Does that… bother you?” Nahri asked with a feeble attempt to keep her voice impassive. “That I may be shaf-“

Dara froze and slowly turned her by her shoulders to face him. His dark eyes blazed with conviction, brows furrowed.

“ _Nahri._ ” He said her name like a promise. “It matters not to me. You have to know that.”

 _Then why, minutes from my quarter-century, haven’t you mentioned marrying me yet?_ It was a voice normally positioned in the back of her mind. One she easily ignored or tossed away with a sarcastic comment. But this time, it struck her so hard that a lump developed in her throat. _Why didn’t you follow me to the Grand Temple today?_ She looked away from him, trying to hide her eyes that were suddenly shining with tears.

Dara’s expression turned pleading. “Nahri, are you crying?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, swallowing the thickness. “It’s stupid.”

“Yes, it _is_ stupid,” he replied quietly. “You know me better than any soul on the earth. You _have_ to know that whether you are shafit or Daeva I do not care.”

“But there… could be a small part of you that _does_ care.”

“No there could not be,” Dara said resolutely. “Did the prince say something to you? You’ve never questioned my affections for you before today.”

Nahri shook her head. “He did not.”

“Then what on earth brought this on?”

Nahri separated from him and wiped away her tears with her knuckles. She exhaled in defeat. There was nothing she could hide from Dara. Especially when he was looking at her like that. With an intense concern and compassion that practically yanked the words from her lips.

“Why didn’t you offer to come with me today? We could’ve hidden away from the people and have been married by Kartir tomorrow. In the city that is your home. In the Grand Temple.”

Dara gently took her face in his hands, his brows knitting together as he locked his eyes with hers. “Is that what you want, Nahri? To be married in the Grand Temple?”

“Not necessarily,” she murmured. “I’ve told you a thousand times that all I care about is being married to the person that _I_ choose. I don’t care how it happens or where. Just that it’s to you, but I wonder if you...” Nahri trailed off not wanting to finish the sentence. She knew it was ridiculous to say it.

Dara’s expression turned nonplussed. “Do you doubt my love for you because on the _eve_ of your quarter-century we have not planned a wedding? Our betrothal is more than a vow, Nahri. It is a solemn promise I intend to keep.”

Nahri bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. It was so absurd and ridiculous to assume such a thing. He’d given up all of his magic. He’d run from the city that was his home. He’d risked his freedom. All to be with her. 

_You fool, he’s given up everything he knows for you._ Nahri sighed and brushed away her tears roughly with the heel of her hand. Dara was still staring at her with those dark, searching eyes. She quickly gathered herself.

“Dara, I think I’m just tired and I’ve put all this pressure on turning twenty-five and marrying you,” Nahri admitted, both to him and herself. “And then the conversation of how ill-fated a match we are no matter when we are alive certainly didn’t help.” Her tone dripped with embarrassment.

Dara’s expression softened at her swift change in demeanor. “You do not wish to be married then?”

“That’s not what I said,” Nahri said with a tearful smile. 

Dara seemed to be processing something. Seemingly deep in thought. Nahri, eager to ease the tension, flicked her wet fingers at the Afshin. The wrinkles between his brows smoothed and he offered a sheepish smile.

“Afshin, I didn’t forget that you promised to tell me a different ending to our love story,” Nahri said, scrubbing her shoulders. “Well, I’ve come to collect.”

Dara pulled her to him, his arms snaking around her midriff. Nahri suddenly felt ridiculous for doubting this man wasn’t in love with her. He couldn’t keep his hands off of her for one, and second, judging by the expression on his face, he’d actually written a new ending for her. As promised.

She let her arms drape around his neck as moonlight bathed them both in the center of the lake. He looked down at her with a somber smile.

“Well, after _not_ being executed and very _secretly_ falling in love, I would have used my Afshin privileges to steal us moments alone. A dinner in the shadows of the Gozan. A walk through the abandoned jungle trails. Midnight strolls through the vacant back alleys between Afshin patrols. We would court in secret.”

“In secret?” Nahri said skeptically.

“I’ve thought about this and I believe that I could convince my cousins to aid us in our endeavors. They’d keep quiet, if not out of loyalty to our family then out of fear of me,” he explained simply. “And after some time, permitting you agreed, we would flee Daevabad under the cover of night. That may sound familiar to you...”

She could almost see it. Dara would climb through her window in the dead of night as he had before. But this time she was packing away a dowry and some traveling clothes. They’d run through the veil and be free. But if Nahri had thought that Dara was finished with this story, she was mistaken.

“We would take new names and live in a small village in Daevastana. We would find a way to disguise ourselves among the other citizens. You would fulfill their needs for a town healer. Everyone would come to know of your kindness and talent. I would likely occupy myself with keeping you safe, perhaps offering to improve the village’s defenses.” Dara swallowed and pulled her a little closer. “And when you were of age, the town’s high priest would visit our home and see us married one evening.”

Even though it was only a story, a silly happy tale to make her smile, Nahri was drunk with love. Dara had a way of making the pragmatic woman that Nahri usually was, turn into a lovesick girl. He always knew the perfect time to do it. For a man who had never taken a partner, the Afshin was skilled in the ways of romance.

“After a few years of narrow escapes and new-found friends covering for us, the Nahids and Afshins would stop searching for us. We could live in peace under the name we made for ourselves. Build a life, a home, and a family of our own,” Dara said quietly, his thumb running along her cheekbone. “How was that ending, my Banu Nahida?”

Nahri pressed her lips to his firmly in response. She could feel a smile of satisfaction spreading on his face before she pulled away. 

“Don’t look so satisfied with yourself, Darayavahoush. You wrote a beautiful story, but that’s all it is. A story,” Nahri said in a playfully chiding tone. 

Dara shrugged lightly. “For now, little thief. For now.”

The next morning, Nahri woke to the sweet, nutty scent of Dara’s cooking downstairs. She yawned, straightening up and sliding out of bed. She was still a little stiff from last night’s activities in the lake. Nahri internally squirmed remembering how Dara had hoisted her up onto his hips, the feeling of him in between her legs. It had been all too much and Nahri felt like one of the men visiting a harem to indulge for their birthday. 

Which reminded her, she was twenty-five now. A quarter-century. Old enough to marry the man of her choosing. The man just downstairs. Not that it mattered if she married him today or tomorrow or a year from now. Their conversation last night had been very sobering and provided closure Nahri wasn’t aware that she had needed. 

Dara loved her and married to him or not, that was never going to change. 

In fact, thinking about it more, she probably had only built up the idea of marriage because it had been stressed to be of such importance during her time in Daevabad. Yes, she had always savored the idea of independence. Not that marriage to Dara would change that. No, in fact, it was a demonstration of her independence. She could marry who she pleased and still maintain her freedom despite any assumptions others would make. 

Despite all of this, marrying Dara was a want and nothing more. And taking pressure off of the idea made the whole event feel more desirable.

Nahri pulled on her robe and made her way downstairs. She rounded the corner to the living area where she found Dara placing a plate and steaming cup of tea on the table.

“Good morning,” she yawned.

Dara straightened up and brushed his hands off on his trousers. “Good morning, Banu Nahida, and congratulations on your quarter-century. I’ve made you breakfast to celebrate,” he smiled, gesturing to the table. 

“You _always_ make me breakfast. I’m a disastrous cook,” Nahri grinned, crossing to the table and taking a seat on one of the cushions.

But what he had made was no ordinary Dara breakfast. Her eyes widened.

Dara walked away briefly and returned to sit across from her with his own plate and tea. “Roht and foul medames.”

“How long have you been awake?” Nahri gawked.

“I dunno. Not that it matters. Today is a big day for you.”

It still didn’t register with Nahri that to Daevabad twenty-five was to them what sixteen was to humans. Besides, she’d never really been certain of her age. So _whenever_ she had turned sixteen she didn’t exactly celebrate as the others did.

“This is really impressive, Darayavahoush,” Nahri nodded.

She began to dig into the food before her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Dara smiling to himself as he took a sip of his tea.

“Yesterday I told Kaspar that you wouldn’t be treating anyone today unless it was an absolute emergency, so we should have the day to ourselves. To do whatever you want to do. Did you have anything in mind for-“

“Sex for one,” Nahri said through the food in her mouth. “Then we’ll try some knife throwing.”

The practice she’d seen as embarrassing and pointless all those years ago was now a great form of stress relief for Nahri. Not to mention, it would be useful should the Royal Guard or ifrit was ever to come knocking again.

“Then… lunch… and tea and sleep. Then sex again.”

Dara chuckled across from her. “I’m seeing that a pattern may emerge here,” he remarked. “But I do have plans for us in the evening. So keep that open.”

“Does it involve going anywhere or traveling of any sort? Because I don’t want to,” Nahri asked, arching a brow.

“No, Banu Nahida. It requires no relocating,” said Dara, still smiling. 

“And you won’t be leaving today? Aside from occasional patrols?”

“I will be at your side all day unless you request otherwise, Banu Nahida.”

Nahri flashed a wicked grin his way. “Good to know.”

The day went as Nahri had requested with the exception of sleep following their second round of sex that day. After all that Dara had done to her, it was practically inevitable that she would sleep as deeply as she was. It was only Dara gently shaking her shoulder that woke her. She blinked awake to see Dara holding a cup of tea and a plate of food. Judging by the slowly purpling sky out the window, it was dinner he was serving her.

“What do we have here?” Nahri asked groggily.

Dara gave her a wry smile. “A feeble _attempt_ at feteer. It’s not as flaky as the recipe predicted. I think we need to work on my Arabic again sometime. I may have misread the recipe.”

Nahri nodded, sitting up. “Yes, it’s not coming as easily to you as Divasti was. Maybe we could work on it tonight.”

Dara took a seat at the foot of the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He turned his head to look at Nahri. “You want to spend the evening of your quarter-century doing one of our reading and writing sessions?” he drawled.

“It makes me feel smart,” she shrugged.

“You _are_ smart,” the Afshin said sternly. His expression softened to something more… timid? Nahri couldn’t quite put her finger on the emotion. “Besides I told you that I had already made plans for us this evening.”

Nahri took a bite of the feteer that wasn’t exactly flaky but good enough. An impressive attempt on Dara’s part. 

She nodded. “Well done, Dara. Not bad at all.”

He beamed, cheeks turning red. Nahri picked up the tea and recognized the robust scent of alcohol and strong tea. She eyed the drink skeptically. 

Dara smiled amusedly. “Humor me and have at least one sip. I’ll drink with you,” he said holding up a steaming cup of his own. 

She sniffed the cup again. It smelled familiar. Her favorite tea. Nahri took a sip and puckered her lips. It was strong and sweet but bitter at the same time. She looked at Dara who was drinking his own. He grimaced, blanching at the taste himself. Their eyes met and they both laughed.

Nahri shook her head and held the cup out to Dara who accepted nodding. “My apologies. That was… _awful_ ,” Dara chuckled.

“What _was_ that? Some sacred quarter-century drink?”

Dara laughed again. “No, no. It’s… your favorite black tea and some of that grape wine that the village gave us.”

“I… _hate_ it,” she snickered. “Can you just bring me my tea as it is with no special Afshin additions?”

“As you wish,” said Dara standing. He glanced from Nahri’s eyes to their wardrobe. “I bought you something from one of the towns while you visited Ali. It’s in the wardrobe there for you. You should wear it tonight.” She eyed him warily but he only returned her expression with a warm smile. “Will you do this for me? And then meet me downstairs?”

“Sure,” Nahri said slowly. “Can I finish eating first?”

“Oh, yes. Of-of course,” Dara stammered. 

He gave her one last look and left the bedroom. She ate her feteer quietly trying to ponder the possibilities. She’d initially thought his plans for the evening were to make her a great dinner - but that had already been revealed to be feteer. 

There was one other possibility. He could be proposing to her. Yes, they were already betrothed, but an official proposal had never been made.

Nahri wasn’t really certain what an "official" proposal entailed. When she’d discussed marrying Muntadhir it sounded like she only needed to sign her name. The whispers she’d heard from the weddings she’d snuck into for food mentioned romantic gestures and asking permission from parents. Most women in Cairo married without those “wedding rings” but the culture of the Ottomans had rubbed off on the more wealthy residents who’d adapted to the custom.

Lost in her thoughts, Nahri slid out of bed and set her empty plate on the nightstand. Dara re-entered with a new cup of steaming tea, setting it on the nightstand and taking the plate with him. He made the briefest eye contact with her, smiled, and left without a word. 

Nahri grabbed the cup and walked to her wardrobe, taking a sip. 

_Much better._ Nahri opened the wardrobe and her breath was nearly taken away.

In the wardrobe hung a simple, sky blue shayla and matching galabiyya. She blinked at the ensemble. It was by no means elegant, but it was of good quality. Better than most of her abayas and chadors. How much had this cost him and what on earth was he thinking she would need it for?

Were people dressed so beautifully when they were proposed to? 

Nahri’s stomach flipped.

What if downstairs there was not a proposal. What if it was… something more?

Ignoring her shaking knees and her pounding heart, Nahri slipped on the soft fabric, still marveling at how well the Afshin knew her and her taste. He knew her favorite dishes, her favorite tea and how to clean her favorite surgery instruments.

Nahri looked at her reflection in the mirror. The smooth blue material hung on her frame perfectly, the color complimenting her skin and eyes. It wasn’t as fine as the clothes she had worn in Daevabad. It was better. It was something she liked. Nahri took a deep breath to calm the fire in her chest, then headed downstairs.

Dara stood at the front door wearing a midnight blue jacket. He looked very nervous, murmuring to himself.

“This is beautiful,” Nahri said, meeting him at the door and running her hands down the galabiyya. 

He smiled. “ _You_ look beautiful.”

Nahri’s cheeks felt hot. He took her hands in his.

“That color was popular among the Nahids,” he explained. “They donned it sometimes during their day to day activities, but it was _always_ worn by -“ He cleared his throat. “Apologies, it was always worn by the bride at a Nahid wedding.”

A broad smile spread on Nahri’s lips that nearly split her face in two.

Dara continued, squeezing her fingers a little tighter. “But I know royal weddings aren’t exactly… something that you are partial to, so these clothes are the only aspect on a Nahid wedding we'll be acknowledging tonight.”

“Tonight?” Nahri beamed.

Dara nodded. “You are- you favor - at least to my understanding - the simple Afshin wedding,” he exhaled. “That is why, and I am aware we are doing this out of order, we both just drank the Nahid wedding potion for energy and fertility. Again, that typically comes _after_ the ceremony but I had a strong feeling that the ‘ _potion’_ was going to taste awful and wanted to get it out of the way.”

Nahri let out a breathless laugh at the sheepish smile on his face. This wasn’t a proposal. This was an invitation to a wedding. _Their_ wedding.

“As you noticed, yesterday I took a particularly long time in town to speak with Kaspar, but I was also meeting with the town high priest, Shahin.”

Tears pricked Nahri’s eyes. She could tell he was also struggling to maintain his composure.

“There were many of us Afshins and it was difficult to fit us into any building so usually we held weddings outdoors where we could all fit. Fortunately, there are only two of us but regardless… well, shall we?” Dara asked, motioning to the door.

Nahri responded with a nod. With a hesitant smile, Dara used his free hand to open the door.

Standing in the light of the sunset and a steady bonfire was High Priest Shahin. He wore his holy robes and offered a gentle wave. Nahri started towards the priest but Dara tugged her back to him, locking their eyes.

“You are certain this is what you _want,_ Nahri?”

“Of course I am certain, you infuriating man,” Nahri laughed tearfully. 

Dara nodded at her. “Shahin will recite a prayer, we will agree to take each other as husband and wife and that will be the end of it. He will leave us. That is the way of a simple Afshin wedding. Do you find that… agreeable?”

Nahri noted the way his brows were knitted together in what she assumed was a mixture of fear, anticipation, and excitement. The faintest of smiles was on his lips.

“I do,” she replied. “I find it _exceedingly_ agreeable.”

“Then…” Dara said, blinking against what appeared to be tears brimming in his eyes. “Then let’s proceed.”

Shahin’s prayers were very brief, the vows he had them recite to one another succinct. The event as a whole took a little more than five minutes, and that was mainly because Dara kept tripping over his words. There were no rings. No applause. No music. Just Dara, Nahri, Shahin, and the sun setting over the treetops.

It wasn’t surprising that Dara was weeping. He wore his heart on his sleeve. It was one of the things Nahri loved about him. That he was an open book. He didn’t need to be read like a mark. While he’d been vague about his history when they’d first met, Dara’s feelings were never a mystery. It was refreshing not to have to guess or pry information out of him. Nahri was surprised at herself when the tears began to flow freely from her own eyes.

Shahin said a small blessing on their home and started back towards the village.

It was just her and Dara now. A Banu Nahida and her Afshin that we’re coincidentally husband and wife.

Dara turned to Nahri, and she watched as he wiped a lingering tear from his cheek with his knuckle. He still looked so nervous.

“Afshin, breathe,” Nahri smirked.

He brought a hand up to cup her face. “Forgive me, I’m trying to assure myself that this is reality,” he said with a breathless laugh. “Five years ago you had me lying in a bed visualizing something _very_ similar to this and I needed to make sure I was not still imagining things.”

Nahri felt desire surge through her. “I see. And what did you visualize _after_ this?”

He did not miss the mischievous glint in her dark eyes. 

Chuckling he pulled her to him, bending his head so his lips brushed her ear. “It is easier to show you than tell you, wife.”

Nahri lay on her side, staring at her husband. _Husband_. Dawn was slowly approaching outside and she was grateful that she’d indulged in naps for her birthday. Dara also lay on his side, looking at her, a hand combing through her curls gently. His touch was intoxicating. It had been all night. 

“That feels good, _husband_ of mine,” Nahri grinned.

Dara smiled, he looked like a schoolboy with a crush. “Then I am content to continue, my _wife_.”

Nahri’s heart fluttered at his words. What would Yaqub think? She had finally married. Perhaps one day Dara could introduce them. She _did_ miss Cairo terribly sometimes. 

“When we met all those years ago in the Cairene cemetery, I would’ve never guessed I was seeing my wife,” he breathed.

Nahri glanced at him skeptically. “I should hope not. You shot at me with an arrow. You nicked my ear.”

The Afshin winced at the memory and Nahri couldn’t help but be amused by his embarrassment. 

“Worry not, Dara. I tried to attack you as well…”

“With a stick,” he drawled. “Yes, what a danger you were as a malnourished thief.”

“Ah, yes. That was before I had, how did you put it? Filled out with manna?”

Dara flushed. “I hate that you remember that. I was humiliated that I’d spoken my thoughts aloud.”

“I knew before you said anything, Dara. You very obviously were admiring my form when I bathed.”

Her Afshin groaned covering his face in mortification. “You have a long and unforgiving memory, Nahri.”

“Indeed I do. I was flattered, to be honest.”

“Is that so?” he said uncovering his handsome face. He seemed mildly relieved at her admission. His eyes suddenly flashed. There was an air of smugness about him. “Don’t think I didn’t catch you admiring _me_ many times.”

Now Nahri flushed. Had she been so obvious? The thief had thought herself much more nonchalant than Dara. Well, at least until she’d tackled him in the cave… or proposed in the Grand Temple. Even married to him now, his rejection made her ears warm. Dara noted the bashful expression on her face and stroked her cheekbone with a grin.

“You see it now don’t you?” 

“Shut up, Darayavahoush.”

“Creator, a moment ago I was ‘husband of mine’ and now I am ‘Darayavahoush,’” he remarked. “Fret not, my love. You are not the first person to be attracted to a slave’s looks.”

There was something bitter in his tone. It was obvious why. Dara did not take pleasure in his resentful remarks about when he was a slave, no matter how casual he seemed. Nahri grabbed the wrist of the hands that cupped her cheek and kissed his palm.

“Well, apparently even in a mortal form you’re quite the handsome Daeva.”

The corner of his lip tilted up and she could see his eyes dance. 

_Still so arrogant._ She rolled her eyes.

“We discussed years ago that I was… _admired_ by the women of my tribe.”

“Yes, yes, the unbelievably attractive Afshin, I know.”

“Are you jealous of long-dead lovers, Nahri?” he smirked.

Nahri shrugged. “Perhaps a little.”

He pulled her hand to his face, lips pressing to her knuckles. “You are the first I’ve had eyes for in all my centuries, Banu Nahida. And trust me when I say that I had been pursued a handful of times by other women,” he said quietly. “None were quite so brave or quick-witted.”

Her cheeks grew even warmer. “Was it my wit you were so attracted to?”

Dara let out a deep chuckle. “Absolutely. You were, well, _are_ … amusing to verbally spar with. You have always, even when you were bone-thin, been attractive to me. Somehow you were wicked but so kind. You treated me with kindness I hadn’t experienced in over a millennia.” His eyes glistened with tears and Nahri felt her throat get thick. “Suleiman’s eye, woman, the hardest thing I have ever done was to reject you in that temple.”

She laughed. “I’m happy to hear that.”

Dara joined her in laughter. “You take such delight in my torture,” the Afshin remarked.

A sadness fell over him and he closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face. Nahri’s brows furrowed in concern. She scooted closer to him in the bed and intertwined their fingers.

“What is it?”

Dara inhaled and shook his head. Finally, he met her gaze. “How you love me I will never understand,” he sighed. “But I am a fool for questioning you. That you should see past the monster I was and see someone good. That you should endure the hatred of strangers to be with me. I dare not risk losing that. I am selfish in that way.”

She could stand his sadness and self-hatred no longer. Her hands released his and threaded in his dark hair. 

“Even after I learned your darkest secrets, I still loved you. I saw the guilt and regret you harbored. The deep apology in your eyes. I felt it. I need you to know that I will always love you. Your past is unforgivable to some, but they do not know you as I do. Do you understand?”

There was a moment of silence where he allowed himself to shed a few more tears. Dara took in a shaky breath and nodded. Nahri smiled somberly as she watched him accept his happiness. It may be wrong for a man who committed such atrocities to get a happy ending. One he did not deserve. Perhaps what he truly deserved was death. But death was too easy and not the solution to the crimes he was guilty of. Life, a life with her, was the true test of redemption. What he would do with his second chance.

“I’ve ruined our wedding night,” Dara murmured.

Nahri snorted softly. “These nights are what make us husband and wife, Afshin. We will make them better by holding one another and exchanging kisses until morning light,” she whispered. Nahri raised her brows. “Ya, Afshin?”

The smallest of smiles graced his lips, his eyes crinkling just slightly. “Aye, Banu Nahida.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys think it's possible she can't share it because it's between Nahri and Dara? God, I hope she lets us see it if it is. What are your theories on what it could be?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Dara's Perspective: Dara and Nahri get a unique patient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm about to move so this may be the last chapter for while!

Dara woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed, his heart thrummed loudly against his ribs. What he had been dreaming of was a mystery to him now but it couldn’t have been good. 

Moonlight streamed in through the windows, an indicator that it was either too late or too early to be awake. He looked beside him at Nahri’s sleeping form. Her dark curls obscured her face from his vision. Her motionless body caused Dara to briefly panic. He hated to wake her but the only way he would be able to get to sleep would be to see her open her eyes and hear her groggily ask him if he was alright. Then she’d recite that list of questions they’d discovered helped to root him in reality.

Finally, he would wrap his arms around her and try to fall back asleep.

Gently, the Afshin shook Nahri’s shoulder. She rolled onto her back, hair parting so he could see her face. 

Dara recoiled in horror.

Her face was carved with Tukharistani letters, lips parted but no breath. Dara covered his mouth and fought off the urge to vomit. 

So they’d found him? 

Wait, _who_ had found him?

The ifrit.

No, the peri?

No, the Royal Guard?

It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he hadn’t protected her as he had promised. Like Dara’s family, she was dead because of him.

Nahri’s dark eyes snapped open and a cry of horror escaped Dara’s lips.

Then he was awake  _ again _ . 

This time he was lying in bed, but his heart still pounded like a drum. Ash was clinging to his forehead and the back of his neck. Dara turned his head on the pillow to see Nahri beside him. Her jaw was slack as she snored softly. The corner of Dara’s lip quirked up in relief that no bloody markings marred her perfect face. He reached forward and let his thumb graze the smoothness of her cheek.

Ever the light sleeper, Nahri blinked awake with a soft groan. She took in the dimly lit room and instantly recognized the retreating panic on Dara’s face. He knew she could see it because he was not attempting to hide it from her. He never could.

“Bad dream?” she murmured.

Dara nodded. “A nightmare within a nightmare actually.”

“Was it me?”

“It was,” he confirmed softly. “It almost always is.”

Nahri blinked her bleary eyes in an attempt to clear them. She stared back at Dara with that familiar, somber smile. Her hand came up to hold his wrist.

“Tell me where you are, Dara.”

“In our bedroom.”

“And what do you see?”

“I see you.”

“And who am I?”

“My wife.”

“And can you feel me?”

“I can.”

“Am I speaking?”

“You are.”

“Am I alive?”

“Yes.”

She pressed a kiss to his palm. “Good. Say it.”

“I am in our bedroom with you and you are alive.”

The words would not banish his nightmares but they would keep them at bay. Dara didn’t need her to prompt him to proceed with the next step of inhaling deeply through his nose then exhaling and counting to ten. He was already ahead of her. As he breathed in, she ran her fingers through his hair.

“Better?”

“Yes,” he replied softly. “Thank you.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Sometimes it was comforting to relay the horrors to Nahri. To listen to her validate his fear and anger and pain. Other times he didn’t dare breathe a word of what he’d seen. Some imaginary moments were just simply too evil to recount. Truthfully, while the fright of this dream had been very real, it wasn’t so horrifying that he needed to relive it. He also liked to spare Nahri such gory details when he was able.

“No I do not,” he finally said. His brows furrowed. “I apologize for waking you.”

“Oh, don’t apologize. I wasn’t dreaming about anything particularly interesting anyway,” Nahri sighed. “Just you and I having sex in the kitchen.”

Dara’s lip hitched up at the corner. She took his breath away with her candor sometimes. 

“You lack imagination if the deepest depths of your mind led you to the ‘fabled kitchen…’” Dara drawled.

Nahri snickered. “Is your imagination so much better?”

“If I recall,” Dara began, one of his fingers twisting a strand of her hair, “ _ my  _ imagination is half the reason I lay here as a mortal man.”

Nahri propped herself up on her elbow, a smirk playing on her lips that made Dara’s stomach flip. Was she aware of the devastating effect her every move had on him? For all her blushing and insistence that he was so “dashing,” he wondered if she ever stopped to realize that she was quite the novelty herself. 

“That’s correct… Now that you mention it, I never learned what you were visualizing outside of the sex on our wedding night. It brought you to tears if memory serves,” Nahri mused.

Dara felt his cheeks get hot at the memory. Nahri may have been his wife, but it was still humbling that she had witnessed Dara’s tearful reaction to his daydreams. Like a lovesick teenager yearning for the attention of the woman he loved.

“What did you visualize?” she asked, eyes dancing with amusement. “You’re blushing!”

Dara chuckled at the broad smile on her face and rolled on his back, laying his hands over his stomach. “You have that effect on me.”

“Now you  _ have _ to tell me what you imagined!”

Dara drew his eyebrows together in mock contemplation. “I do not believe I’m obligated to do such a thing, actually.”

“ _ Dara _ ,” Nahri said, her tone comically severe. “We have been married for almost five years _.  _ What dreams do you have for us that you will not share?”

He let his dark eyes flicker to her. She was looking at him, all traces of grogginess gone. Nahri was a sight no matter what state she was in, but when her eyes sparkled like this - when they crinkled in a smile - she was radiant. She was radiant and Dara was powerless to her desires. 

“You do not fight fair, little thief,” he muttered. 

Sensing her victory, Nahri settled onto his chest, nuzzling her head into the crook of his shoulder. Moments like these made Dara forget who he was. They made him doubt reality. How on earth was it possible that the Scourge of Qui-Zi was married to such a beautiful woman? He was not meant for such a happy ending.

Dara wrapped his arms around her, enjoying the feeling of her close to his chest. Warm and breathing and all his.

“Most of what I imagined has come to pass. Escaping Daevabad. Exploring mountains. Building a home. Marrying you. But I did imagine things farther down the road too.”

“Such as?”

“A child. Even if it was just one,” he admitted. Dara yawned. “And us growing old together.”

“You daydreamed about us getting  _ old _ ?” Nahri asked, a smile in her voice.

“Consider this. I’ve been frozen for fourteen hundred years. Being allowed to move again, at the same pace as the woman I love? That is a privilege I never thought that I would have.”

Nahri began playing with his fingers. He could not see her face but he imagined her eyebrows drawn together as she mulled over the notion.

“Well, you romanticize age now, but just wait. I’ve seen what it does to people. Your hair goes grey and you get wrinkly and your back just starts to hurt more and more supposedly.”

“It is fortunate for the both of us then that you are a Nahid and capable of soothing such aches and pains… we can enjoy growing old together in comfort,” he said, holding her tighter to him. “And I will adore every grey hair and wrinkle you come to have, Banu Nahida.”

Nahri let out a loud and unceremonious yawn.

“I’ll hold you to that…” she trailed off before resuming her snoring. 

Dara chuckled letting his head tilt onto hers. The Scourge of Qui-Zi lying in bed with his wife, a healer, who he assisted in her practice. Who he protected with his life. Who laid beside him now, alive and well.  It took another half hour but Dara soon fell into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning Dara woke to the sound of a fist pounding on the door downstairs. The ever-present warrior within him jolted Dara out of the bed and onto his feet. In one swift movement, he had grabbed his bow and quiver from beneath their bed and was crossing to the bedroom door in deadly silence. 

He could see Nahri out of the corner of his eye, sitting up straight and clutching the sheets to her chest in surprise.

“Do not follow until I say,” Dara said quietly.

Nahri only nodded before quietly clambering out of bed and grabbing her clothes off the dresser. He could tell that her promise would be fast fleeting and she would quickly grow too worried to let him investigate on his own. Dara would need to move quickly to beat Nahri’s impatience.

The pounding continued. Clad in only his trousers, Dara eased down the stairs noiselessly and notched an arrow in his bow. He raised it eye level taking a deep breath, then used his magic to throw open the front door.

Before Dara stood a very small girl - she couldn’t be more than eight - with a tear-streaked face. Her dark eyes glistened and breathless sobs escaped her quivering lips. Dara lowered his bow slowly, a brow arched. Was this a trick? His hand gripped the weapon tighter as he eyed the Daeva girl.

She held up her hand revealing to Dara an oddly shaped apple. “M-my baba.”

“Huh?” was all Dara could manage.

The girl dissolved into sobs and clutched the apple close to her chest. 

Dara blinked, trying to sober himself. “Ah… Nahri, you can come down!”

His wife bounded down the stairs hastily and arrived at his side. She peered down at the child who was still mournfully muttering to the fruit in her tiny hands.  Dara and Nahri both strained their ears trying to make out her whispers. Hoping for any hint as to what had landed this girl on their doorstep.

“Is she saying  _ baba _ ? Baba?” Nahri remarked, looking at Dara. 

“Yes, and she held out the apple and…” he trailed off as both he and Nahri met each other’s gaze.

The pieces of the puzzle came together and ashamed of his behavior, Dara put aside his bow and quiver by the door. He knelt before the girl trying to appear as congenial as possible. Dara imagined being greeted by an arrow had not endeared her to him. These suspicions were confirmed as she met his gaze and protectively hugged the malformed apple.

“May I have your name?” he asked quietly.

She didn’t answer. Dara knew better than to press her.

“Do you know who  _ we  _ are?”

The girl nodded again.

“Why don’t you give your baba to the Banu Nahida and she will help him as quickly as she can.”

She shrunk back and Dara raised his hands innocently. Nahri stepped in front of him and looked down at the girl, an understanding smile on her lips.

“Instead, why don’t you follow me to my infirmary. You can hold onto your baba, alright?”

The child considered this then bobbed her head resolutely. Dara stood taking note of her dirt-caked shoes, and her calves that peeked out from beneath her dress, flecked with angry, red scratches. She’d come a long way on foot to them.

She followed Nahri, down the hall, and around the corner. Dara let his eyes carefully sweep the landscape for any sign of danger, then shut the door. He walked just on the heels of the girl following Nahri into the infirmary. 

Nahri took a seat at her desk and gestured for the girl to rest on the cot. Hesitantly, and not easing her grip on the apple one bit, she clambered onto the bed. Dara leaned in the doorway observing the way the little girl’s feet dangled above the floor. The frazzled nature of her braids. The tear tracks that had cleaned away some of the dirt smeared on her cheek.

“Now,” Nahri said calmly. “Can you recall when your baba was transformed into an apple?” The girl shook her head. “Okay, was it before today maybe?” The girl nodded. “Yesterday?” Another nod. “Maybe the day before that?” A shrug. 

Dara was impressed with Nahri’s patience. She’d certainly come a long way in the past ten years.

“How about a week?”

To this, the girl scrunched up her nose in disapproval and shook her head. Nahri appeared pleased with this information. Dara realized he had never seen her tend to this kind of patient before. A wave of excitement hit him full force. He loved it when Nahri learned a new procedure. Not only would she get particularly excited when she succeeded, but it was a marvel to hear about later. The way she described how it felt to fix something made Dara ache for the ability himself. 

As that was not possible, he was perfectly content to live through her stories vicariously. Besides he knew his role with this particular patient wouldn’t allow him to observe. No, when children accompanied parents or siblings to visit the Banu Nahida, Dara became a nursemaid. A title he wore with honor. 

“Well, I have very good news for you - wait, what was your name?” Nahri questioned, trying to appear aloof.

“Mahin.”

“Ah, thank you. That’s a pretty name,” she replied offhandedly. “Well, the good news is that I can definitely bring your father back from this form.”

“You can?” squeaked Mahin. “When?”

Nahri frowned. “I’m afraid that’s the bad news. It may take me a few tries.”

An expression so dutiful and determined crossed the young girl’s face that it made both Dara and Nahri bite back a laugh.

“I’ll do anything to help,” Mahin said, jutting out her chin.

“Oh my.  _ Anything _ ,” Dara said, giving Nahri a grave look.

He could see her lips twitch as she resisted smiling. She turned her attention back to Mahin.

“I need two things from you, Mahin. First, I need you to give me your baba,” Nahri said, extending her hand to the girl.

Mahin eyed Nahri’s palm suspiciously. Finally, she pursed her lips and slowly held out the apple. Nahri accepted with a gracious “thank you” and gently set it on her desk. 

Mahin’s gaze snapped to the apple then back to Nahri. “You mustn’t eat him, Banu Nahida.”

Fortunately, Nahri was long skilled in the art of deception, so the insistent plea Mahin made asking her not to consume her father did not elicit more than an understanding smile.  _ Unfortunately,  _ the Afshin was a man who did very little to mask his emotions. He quickly turned his head to look into the living room allowing himself to grin. He coughed to mask his laugh.

“Of course not. I do not even like apples,” Nahri shrugged.

“What is the second thing you need?” asked Mahin, earnest eyes blazing.

“I need you to go with Dara so that I can focus on healing your baba.”

Nahri looked at Dara. It was his cue. When he looked back down at Mahin, her round, dark eyes were taking him in head to toe. Measuring him almost.

“Ah, yes, which is lucky for me as I do need some assistance with our horse in the stable.”

Dara and Nahri awaited the eager reaction they were so used to hearing from the children who visited them. Instead, Mahin narrowed her eyes at the Afshin. Nahri, still feigning a smile, raised her brows at Dara. Not having come from a large family as he had, Nahri was not aware of how creative you sometimes had to get with children. 

“But the horse can wait of course. No, what I truly need help with is making breakfast.”

Still no reaction. Dara scrutinized her further. What type of child was not entertained by horses or food?

“No, I actually do  _ not _ need help with breakfast because… I am not hungry,” Dara stalled. He wracked his brain for a suitable activity. “I need someone to keep me company on my patrol?”

Mahin’s eyes brightened at this prospect and Dara leaped for the opportunity.

“So, Mahin, shall we?”

Dara sat on the large boulder that allowed him a perfect view of the break in the tree line leading up to their home. By his side was Mahin, eating leftover roht bread in silence. 

That was fine with Dara. He’d learned long ago that you didn’t need to supply idle chatter to keep a child busy. In fact, sometimes it deterred them. Made them look for entertainment elsewhere. He needed Mahin to stay at his side until Nahri was finished. 

Dara plucked at his bow, staring thoughtfully down the empty mountain trail. It looked like rain was coming. It was highly unlikely Nahri would receive any more patients till after this oncoming storm had passed. 

“Are you bored?” Mahin asked.

Dara shook his head. “No.” He looked down at her, a brow raised. “Are  _ you _ bored?”

“Mmm… no,” the girl mused. Her eyes glanced over his bow and quiver. “Are you going to do something with those?”

“Ah, hopefully not. That would mean there was trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

He could hear the timid fear in her voice. Why children, or people for that matter, liked to frighten themselves by asking questions they knew the answer to was beyond him. 

“There’s not been trouble here in many years, Mahin,” Dara said warmly. “And even if there was, you strike me as brave enough to handle any task thrown your way.”

“Me?” Mahin gawked, her mouth half full of the remains of bread. 

Dara nodded. “Of course. You traveled a long way on your own. That’s very brave.”

She fiddled anxiously, focusing on her fingers. “It was… not  _ so  _ far really.”

“Well, your ankles tell a different story. I noticed that you didn’t ask the Banu Nahida to heal those scratches,” Dara remarked, pointing to her bony ankles with the tail of an arrow. 

“I thought about it, but I think it’s better if I let her work on bringing my father back first. Then she can try and help me,” Mahin explained knowledgeably. “It’s from when I ran off the main path to avoid a caravan. Some bushes scraped me.”

“Why did you avoid the caravan? You could’ve asked them for help.”

“My baba says I should never talk to men in caravans on my own. He says they cannot be trusted,” Mahin noted. “I also should not talk to kind old women that offer me food or boys that are loud.”

“I see…” Dara murmured. He wondered how a man so cautious came to be turned into an apple. “And how is it that he became... How did this all happen?”

Mahin pulled one of the arrows from Dara’s quiver, twisting it this way and that in her tiny hands. Her fingers stroked the smooth wood gently and Dara was reminded of Tamima very briefly. She’d loved to play with his arrows. Though he would never let her hold his bow. Unless, of course, no one was watching. Or if she asked nicely.

“Baba plays games for money,” Mahin stated. “He lost and the woman who beat him found out that he didn’t have what he owed and then she made him an apple.”

Dara blinked in surprise. It was not unusual for someone to be turned into an apple as an insult, but that this girl was made to suffer for her father’s poor decision was unfortunate. He couldn’t imagine what the journey over must have been like for her. When he had called Mahin “very brave” he hadn’t been trying to appease her.

“Well it was wise that you came to us. How did you know where to go? We make it difficult to find us if you don’t get instructions from Safater.”    


Mahin seemed to size Dara up. He fought off a snort. She finished her brief appraisal and shifted so she sat cross-legged facing Dara. Her eyes sparkled as though she was about to spin a wild tale of adventure. Perhaps she was… Even if it was only wild to her, she had Dara’s full attention now.

“As soon as baba was turned into an apple I grabbed him and ran out of the tavern. I couldn’t ride our horse alone so I knew the first thing I had to do was find a place to hide him until baba was well…”

The tale took many interesting twists and turns. Dara was more impressed than amused with Mahin. She was clever and resourceful and nine years old, most decidedly  _ not  _ eight. To get to them she’d done parlor tricks to barter for food and had found shelter in unlikely places. She’d been turned away by the healer in the town of Dubhar for having no money before she’d made her way to Safater. 

She was standing on the boulder now, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

“So, I found a quiet boy with long hair working in the stable-”

“Rahim?” Dara asked, gently taking the arrow from her. 

He suddenly realized that an enthusiastic child bobbing atop a boulder and an arrow was a hapless pair.

“Yes, I asked him how much I could make cleaning up the stables and he asked me why and I told him that my father was ill and I needed money for a healer to treat him. He sent me your way, but not before a horse tried to take a bite of baba…” she grumbled. Dara somehow managed not to laugh at the cantankerous expression on her young face. “That’s why I was crying when I was knocking on your door. I don’t normally cry like that of course.”

“Yes, of course,” Dara agreed with a shrug. He grimaced at her. “But I will say, that if I went through what you did, I would probably cry too.”

Mahin looked down her nose at him, holding an intense stare. She would stop to do this to him every so often as though evaluating him. 

“Well, you should be careful who you cry around, Dara.”

“Ah, yes, noted.”

At Dara’s obedient response the girl relented. She very much reminded him of Nahri. Bossy, brave, smart, and funny. 

She sat back down beside him. “So, that’s how this all happened.” Mahin lifted one of her frizzy braids and frowned, letting it fall limply against her chest. “When baba is back he’ll need to braid my hair again.”

“Can you not braid your own?” 

“No, of course, I can. But I like the way baba does it better. Just like how baba can pitch a tent, but he likes how I do it best.”

“I see,” Dara said, gnawing on his lower lip. He didn’t want to pry, but if Dara let her leave this place without checking, he would never forgive himself. He kept his tone as informal as possible, “You are happy with your father then?” 

“Yes,” Mahin said. “When will the Banu Nahida be finished with him?” 

“Eh, magic is tricky. It may be a while,” Dara admitted. There was no point in lying to her. Dara was certain Nahri would sort out Mahin’s father’s situation, but he was well aware that curses could take hours to undo. “Can you show me one of these parlor tricks?”

Mahin’s eyes flashed with delight. “I’ll need that arrow back.”

“Alright,  _ now  _ how many?”

Dara squinted at the arrow floating between Mahin’s tiny palms as she stood before him. They'd climbed down from the boulder and were sitting on the damp earth now.

“Three?” 

“No…” 

“Two?”

“No…”

“Well, there can’t be more than five.”

“Why?”

“Because you haven’t touched my quiver and that’s the only way-”

“I haven’t?”

The Afshin narrowed his eyes. “Five.”

Mahin closed her fists and the singular arrow fell to the ground along with five others. “Six! You forgot about the one you handed me as a demonstration.”

Dara scooped up the arrows, examining them closely. “It truly only looked like there was one…”

“Because whenever your shoulders move, I move the arrows with you.”   


“That is very clever. Mahin, I am not saying I approve, but you could swindle yourself a fortune with these tricks. You should ask the Banu Nahida-”

“Don’t teach him any of your tricks, Mahin,” Nahri cautioned, making her presence known. “He is wicked and delights in my frustration.”

She grinned. “I do not teach anyone my tricks.” The sudden light in her eyes vanished as she remembered why she was here with Dara. She approached Nahri hesitantly. “Is-is my-”

“Your father is up at the house resting… and very much _not_ an apple,” Nahri winked. “Would you like to see him now?’

“Yes-”

Mahin looked as though she may take flight, but was swiftly cut off by Dara.

“ _Mahin_ , show the Banu Nahida your feet,” Dara said, looking over his shoulder at her. He could see a small pout form on Mahin’s face but pursed his lips in response. “You made me a promise.”

“They don’t hurt that-”

“Aye…” 

The girl plopped down to the ground and pulled off each of her shoes. Nahri appraised the swollen soles of her feet then her scratched ankles. She prodded at Mahin’s heel who winced in response. Dara watched as his wife gently wrapped her fingers around the Daeva girl's tiny feet and closed her eyes. The scratches on her ankles closed and vanished and there four audible pops from what Dara assumed were Mahin’s toes.

Nahri had become very good with children, especially the “scrappier” ones. Watching her interact with Mahin, Dara succumbed to his imagination from all those years ago. Nahri with her daughter. His daughter. _Their_ daughter. There was no denying it, Nahri would make a fine mother. Fiercely loyal and loving and smart. The sight made his heartache to say something, but it wasn’t the right time. He wasn’t sure if there _was_ a right time really, but bit his tongue.

“Is that better?” Nahri asked with a warm smile.

Mahin nodded and jumped to her feet, testing out the renewed dexterity.

Nahri beamed with satisfaction. “Do you need Dara to carry you back up?”

“No,” the girl scoffed, already pulling her shoes back on. “I can walk just fine now.”

“Okay, then after you,” said Nahri gesturing to the trail.

Mahin set off for it while Dara stood to his feet and slung his quiver of arrows back over his shoulders along with his bow. He joined Nahri and released a brisk sigh.

“She is very, very clever. I think you’d like her-”

“Ya, she’s a very good playmate for you, Afshin.”

Before Dara could retort:

“Dara! You didn’t finish the zahhak story…” Mahin called from ahead.

The Afshin rolled his eyes and shrugged at his wife. He ran to catch up to Mahin. They walked side by side up the hill.

“Mahin, I didn’t finish the story for a reason. You are too young and it will scare you.”

“You _ said _ I was brave…”

Dara glanced over his shoulder at Nahri who was observing the two of them with an expression he couldn’t quite define. At first, he thought it was curiosity but upon further examination, it was also loving. 

Sensing Dara was studying her just as astutely as she was studying him, Nahri averted her eyes. The thoughts, though unspoken, were very similar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was at a QA with Shannon Chakraborty recently and she revealed that she never planned on writing from Dara's POV until her editor suggested it - in fact, Dara was supposed to have a completely different (and judging by her tone much more sad) story


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nahri and Dara discuss a family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAUTION CAUTION WARNING WARNING EXTREME SOFTNESS BELOW I REPEAT EXTREMELY SOFT DARA BEHAVIOR BELOW

Nahri and Dara hadn’t been to one of Safater’s celebrations in months. It wasn’t for lack of want, but rather because the risk of drawing attention to the people of the modest village was a risk they didn’t care to take. Nevertheless, Kaspar had personally visited their home almost demanding they participate in tonight’s celebration. 

Still apprehensive, Nahri and Dara accepted. Dara could see on Nahri’s face that the prospect excited her. Their interactions with the public were sparse and brief and as self-sufficient as Nahri was, she enjoyed the company of the people of Safater. 

There was an abundance of food and as the sun began to set, the people of the village stoked the fire pits urging more light to fill the crowded town square.

Dara had spent most of the evening with Rahim who was continuing to grow like a weed. Evidently, he was in hot pursuit of an older Daeva girl named Kavita from a country town. She sounded fair enough to Dara.

“Afshin, she is so witty and clever. I can’t form complete sentences when I’m around her. She’s too quick for me!”

Dara grinned, nocking an arrow and aiming at the practice target he and Rahim had been shooting for the past hour. “Quick wit is an admirable quality, Rahim,” Dara remarked letting loose the arrow.

It flew straight into the throat of the straw-filled dummy. Rahim nocked an arrow in his own bow and raised it to eye level. He exhaled loudly. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re just as quick-witted as the Banu Nahida.”

“Elbow level,” Dara said, gently tilting Rahim’s arm. “Perhaps you’re trying too hard with her. You’re very funny yourself.”

Rahim released his arrow, piercing the dummy in its stomach. He groaned in disappointment prompting a pat on the back from Dara. 

“That was a fine shot, Rahim.”

“It wasn’t the lungs…”

“It is close. Just a little higher,” shrugged Dara.

“I am off tonight for some reason.”

Dara walked to the target dummy, fighting off an amused smile. The boy was lovesick. That much was obvious. Dara knew the feeling well. Nahri had been a source of constant bewilderment for him when they’d first met. Her witty retorts always caught him off guard and it had taken him a good amount of their journey to Daevabad to be comfortable around her. To be able to speak with her casually.

Dara collected the arrows and turned back to Rahim, arching a brow.

“Could it be that your head is a little clouded with thoughts of this Kavita?” he muttered. 

Rahim flushed, accepting the arrow Dara had handed over. “Perhaps…”

Chuckling, Dara glanced in the direction of his wife who sat by the fireside speaking with the owner of the village apothecary. She met his gaze and smiled bringing a flush to Dara’s cheeks. When she smiled at him like that, when her skin was aglow with firelight, his heart pounded so hard against his ribs that he thought they may break. Only the sound of Rahim snickering brought Dara back to reality.

“Something amusing, Rahim?” Dara murmured.

“Only the love-struck expression on your face any time you look at the Banu Nahida,” Rahim grinned. 

“Yes, well, I’ll keep in mind your laughter when I see you make a similar expression… Aim for the throat this time. Pretend that this Kavita is watching you, eh?”

“Suleiman’s eye, that doesn’t help,” grumbled Rahim.

The night continued to pass in a similar fashion. Rahim and Dara conversed as they shot arrow after arrow. They visited the stables together. More talk of this Kavita transpired and Dara found himself eager to meet the girl. Not only out of interest but to ensure she was a good match for Rahim.

At the end of the night, Nahri and Dara began the long trek back to their home. Kaspar had offered them lodging in his guest room for the night, but the couple did not want to tempt fate. They couldn’t risk the town coming under fire because of them.

The stars shined overhead and the two felt lighter than air. It had been a long time since they both felt so normal.

“Dara,” Nahri said, her breath hot against his shoulders. 

“Hm?”

Hee arms clasped his waist tighter as the horse ascended the mountain trail.

“How are you so good with children? Of all ages? From Mahin to Rahim to any of the toddlers who accompany their parents to see us?” she pressed. “What’s your secret?”

Puzzled by her question, Dara merely shrugged his shoulders. “I come from a large family with children of all ages. I’ve had plenty of practice.”

“Yes, but they  _ really  _ seem to like you. Even the ones who’ve barely spoken to you. That night at the Grand Temple they practically flocked to you.”

He barked a laugh, tossing his head back. “They only flocked to me because their parents fed them folklore."

“Ya, but they kept talking to you. You made them smile, I saw…” muttered Nahri. “And it comes to you so effortlessly! I get nervous around them.”

“Where is this coming from?” Dara asked. 

Nahri stilled behind him and he was instantly hit with a wave of concern. This must have been obvious from his own posture because Nahri soon laughed.

“Calm yourself, Afshin,” she said, cutting the tension in two. “It’s nothing so dire.”

In the back of his mind, Dara had an idea why she was asking, but he would not put that pressure on Nahri by asking her to confirm his suspicions. When she was ready she would speak up. 

“Of course not,” Dara smirked. “You may sleep. I’ll wake you when we arrive.”

Dara and Nahri arrived home about two hours past midnight. He carried her inside then tied up the horse and joined her in their bed.  Deep in her slumber, Nahri rolled onto Dara’s chest, her fingers tracing the slave markings lining his ribs.

“Dara?”

“Nahri?”

“Do you want a baby?”

Dara felt his chest constrict and he was suddenly very grateful, that his wife couldn’t see his face in the dark. The answer was of course, yes. But what if tomorrow Nahri woke to find her mind had changed and that her husband’s had not? Still, time was passing and with each additional second that went by, he knew Nahri’s mind was probably reeling with speculation. He decided that despite what tomorrow may bring, honesty was the best option.

“I would not mind one or two pickpocketing Nahids of our own.”

Silence hung in the air like a heavyweight on a thread as he waited for her response. Should he not have said “two?” Yes, that had probably frightened her.  Or maybe she’d realized who he really was. 

A monster. A murderer. A man that shouldn’t even be a husband, much less a father. 

“Nahri, I’m sorry that…”

He trailed off as the soft snoring of his wife signaled she was sound asleep. Well, that was a relief. At least she wasn’t horrified by his answer. No, she’d only passed out with exhaustion. 

Which meant now he had only to wait until morning to address the situation. In just eight or so hours he would know her thoughts on the matter.

The smile of relief on his face faded.

_ Shit. _

The next morning Dara took his tea outside in the garden. He’d left Nahri’s cup on the bedside table for her when she woke up.

His finger tapped against the porcelain impatiently. He’d been contemplating how to address last night’s conversation. Perhaps he could play it off as a slip of the tongue. Or maybe he could say he was drunk. No, he hadn’t drank enough last night. He’d also managed to get her home on horseback. She was too smart for the excuse.

He’d fought hundreds of men and braved countless perils, yet a conversation with his wife on the topic of their future children made his heart pound in his ears. Surely, this wasn’t a surprise to her. This was part of the reason she’d made him mortal! So that the Nahid lineage could live on.

_ And what if when these children learn that their father was a monster? _

He closed his eyes and bowed his head. How could he have followed through with this all those years ago without considering what kind of a father he would make? Yes, he was good with children. No, he was not the man from fourteen hundred years ago. But even so, he had blood on his hands.

“You let me sleep in,” Nahri yawned, joining him on the stone bench. 

He offered her a sheepish smile. “Yes, you were up very late.”

“So were you, and yet here you are, awake in the garden,” she countered. “Seemingly distressed by something.”

Yes, he was an open book to her. He cleared his throat.

“Is it because we talked about children last night?”

Dara nearly choked on his tea. He hadn’t expected her to breach the topic so readily. He turned to her, eyes wide as he searched for the appropriate response.

Nahri snickered. “We’re  _ married,  _ Dara. I've known you for eleven years! We’re supposed to discuss these things.”

“I… well, of course. But-“

“But  _ what _ , Dara? Half the point of making you mortal was for this,” she gawked. The half-smile on her face faded. “Oh… Dara, do you not want-“

Dara took her hand, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. “No, no, that is not the issue. The issue is: am I someone fit to be a father?” he said, swallowing the thickness in his throat.

Nahri’s brows furrowed and Dara blinked back the tears that pricked his eyes. 

“What new bout of self-imposed guilt is this the result of?”

“A very recent one,” Dara said with a tearful laugh. “Nahri, am I allowed this happiness? Do I deserve a family of my own? More importantly, do you  _ want  _ one with  _ me? _ ”

It took Nahri a fraction of a second to answer. “ _ Yes _ , of course. Dara, you will make an amazing father.”

She scooted closer to him pulling his arm around her shoulders. “Just think about it. I know you already have,” she said with a knowing smile. “A little boy with a proclivity for horses and a tiny scowl every bit as handsome as his father’s.”

Dara brought himself to meet Nahri’s dark eyes. He smiled bashfully. “I’d rather favored a girl with an innate talent for the bow and the clever smile of her mother.”

“Perhaps we can manage one of each,” Nahri shrugged. 

“I don’t know that you get much of a say, my love.”

“Do you doubt your Banu Nahida, Afshin?”

Dara snorted. “My apologies. You think I’d know better by now.”

“I should say so,” Nahri replied. Abruptly she swung her legs on either side of Dara’s hips. “So… when do we get started?”

Dara pushed the dark thoughts to the back of his mind. Those thoughts had never done anything but harm after all. His hands gripped her waist and the smile that played on Nahri's lips was all the push he needed.

“Well, to my knowledge, our kind does not conceive as easily as humans… so it may take quite a few tries,” he purred.

“ _ Again _ , I’m the Banu Nahida,” breathed Nahri, hiking up her nightgown. You’d do well to have faith in me, Afshin.”

_Seven Months Later..._

Dara shut the front door noiselessly. His last patrol of the evening had been quiet. As usual. It had been a long time since any danger had presented itself to them. That said, he still slept with his bow and arrow beneath the bed every night… and it was almost always slung around his middle all other times of the day. He had much to protect now.

He entered the living room and looked over to the fireplace where Nahri had taken to dozing off. The fire blazed next to her spot lying across the cushions on the floor. 

He knelt next to her, brushing the hair from her forehead gently. She was so warm and craved the company of the fireside more than she did his lentil soup - a side effect of the pregnancy. Dara’s eyes fell to her right hand that was draped over her distended stomach. She was beautiful. Glowing was an understatement in his opinion.  Dara let his fingers gingerly brush the bump and a fond smile fell over his lips. 

“Banu Nahida,” Dara said quietly. “You’ll wake up stiff as a board tomorrow if we don’t move you to the bed.” 

“By ‘we’ you mean ‘you,’ right?” Nahri murmured, voice hoarse with sleep.

Dara grinned. “Of course, my love.” He slid one arm under her knees and the other under her back. 

She laced her fingers around his neck. “Lift with your knees, Afshin.”

“Thank you for the advice. Is this something you learned from your ancestors?” Dara drawled.

She nodded into his chest, yawning loudly.

Dara ascended the steps, once again struggling to contemplate that this was _his_ life. That he was carrying his beautiful wife to their bed and in four months, they would have a child he would probably be tucking into bed too.

He shouldered open their bedroom door and set her down on the mattress. 

“Where are you going?” she grumbled.

“I’m going to do a final sweep of the house now and then I’ll come straight to bed, my love.”

Nahri released a half-hearted groan of objection but quickly settled under the covers. Dara smiled to himself and left the bedroom.

His first stop was the front door. He barred it and added a hasty security curse just to be safe. The same curse was applied to every window on the first floor. And also the closet with a suspicious draft. 

Every dark corner was inspected and every lingering shadow investigated until Dara was satisfied. He was well aware he’d become quite protective over the past few months. Dara wasn’t ashamed of this fact of course. After all, he was protecting the three of them now. What little memories remained of Dara’s past included his father and uncles being in a similar state when their own wives were expecting.  Just thinking the sentence made Dara smile to himself as he climbed back up the stairs. 

His  _ wife _ . Expecting.

When he re-entered the bedroom Nahri was snoring softly, the warm light of a fiery glass orb just barely illuminating her face.

Dara changed into his nightclothes and climbed into their bed as gently as he possibly could. He knew that the slightest change in weight distribution of the bed could make sleep an impossibility for her. 

Successful in securing his spot under the covers, Dara snapped his fingers and the fiery orb was snuffed out. 

“The house is secure?” Nahri mumbled sleepily. 

“Yes,  _ habibti.” _

She smiled. “Your Arabic has come a long way.”

Dara flushed with pride. In the past twelve years he’d known her, he'd learned how to write in Divasti and also how to speak fluent Arabic. The latter was more important to Nahri than him, therefore fulfilling this wish offered him immense satisfaction.

“That is thanks to you. You’ll have to teach them Arabic too, you know?” he said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s a beautiful tongue.”

“ _ You’ve  _ got a beautiful tongue,” she smirked.

Dara chuckled in the darkness, feeling color warm his cheeks. She was relentless, especially since the pregnancy. 

His hand found her stomach in the darkness, fingers splayed over the swell of her abdomen. “How big are they now?”

Nahri reached down placing her hand over his. She closed her eyes and Dara could vaguely make out the crease between her eyebrows as she focused on reading whatever her magic was interpreting.

“About the size of a banana,” she concluded. “Just big enough that I’ve got my suspicions we’ll be feeling a kick any week now.”

Dara pinched his nose with his free hand. “I will be a wreck when that happens.”

Nahri snickered and squeezed his fingers. “That’s adorable.”

“The peri would lose their wings sooner than Darayavahoush e-Afshin was called ‘adorable.’ The words you use to describe me, Banu Nahida…” Dara grinned. 

“Speaking of, will you want to be called baba?” 

Dara’s heart skipped a beat at the question. A question he’d never thought he would be asked. A question he’d not even thought about. Too stunned by the prospect to answer, Nahri spoke for him:

“I think abba is too formal. You’re definitely baba.”

“Is-is that so?” Dara asked, his giddiness stealing the tone of his voice. “I’m to be an informal father?”

A laugh muffled by Nahri turning her face into her pillow made Dara’s smile broaden. “Forgive me if it is difficult for me to see you as a strict parent.”

“I could be strict,” Dara countered.

“No, you couldn’t. The second you lay eyes on them you’ll be wrapped around their finger.”

He may have been protesting but it was only because he wanted to hear Nahri keep repeating herself. Artash had been strict. There were glimmers of a deeper desire he clearly had to be less so, but he was an Afshin to his core and Dara couldn’t blame him for that. He was grateful for those moments when his father had been baba and not abba. 

“Am I wrong?” Nahri asked, her voice shaking him from his thoughts. “You have a weakness for Nahids, Dara.”

“Well, the Creator help me then, I suppose.”

“You can’t fool me. I can hear it in your voice. You don’t mind at all.”

Dara laughed softly, surrendering to his hopes. “No, I suppose that I do not mind.”

Nahri craned her neck over to kiss his cheek. “Alright, goodnight then, _baba_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I developed a cavity writing something this sweet  
> (I think there will be five to six more chapters - we're gonna delve into KOC plot soon)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Dara’s perspective: The past catches up to Nahri and Dara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My anxiety was THROUGH THE ROOF writing some of this

Chapter 6

Towards the end of her pregnancy, Nahri had found it difficult to sleep and in turn, so had Dara. She would get bored or restless and ask him countless questions or request his thoughts on irrelevant topics. He was quite content to let her bother him. It was the least he could do at this point.

Whenever she would wake up, the two would take their conversation downstairs and to the window bench. The relocation offered a small comfort for some reason they couldn’t quite determine.

“And if it’s a boy?” Dara asked, a brow raised.

“It’s not.”

“You could be wrong.”

“I was never wrong in Cairo.”

“Well, Daeva pregnancies could be different.”

Nahri shook her head at him, folding her hands over her stomach. “It’s a girl. I’m sorry if you wanted it to be a surprise, but you _did_ ask.”

“No, it isn’t that,” he smirked. “I just don’t want you to get my hopes up if it’s going to be a boy.”

“Aren’t men supposed to be all for passing on their names and legacies?” Nahri mused. 

Dara looked out the window at the moonlit forest, a wistful smile on his lips. “You’re not wrong. My cousins, uncles, the whole lot of them all prayed to the Creator for sons, but - in my opinion - they were not seeing the larger picture.”

“Which is?”

“Well, if you have a boy he goes on to serve the Nahids. To guard them and fight for them. Your namesake isn’t going to live on if they die in the line of duty and no one wants to… bury their child,” Dara muttered. 

He could feel Nahri’s concerned gaze. She’d always worried herself with his feelings and well being, but these past few months her attentiveness to his emotions had been increasing steadily.

Dara rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed of the attention. “That said, if you have a girl you _may_ have to give her away to a husband but… at least she would be safe.”

To Dara’s surprise, Nahri snorted at this. “Give her _away_ to a husband? Dara, it’s not as though people marry off their children and never see them again anymore,” she said with a knowing smile. “Besides, she may not even _want_ to marry.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, a smug expression on the sharp plains of his face. “I would be fine with the latter. All the better that I keep her to myself.”

“You are a very complex man, Darayavahoush,” yawned Nahri.

“Shall we go back to bed?”

“No,” she groaned, leaning her head against the cool glass. “My mind is tired but _she_ isn’t.”

Dara’s eyes lit up. “She is kicking again?”

“Ya, come here, Afshin,” Nahri replied. She rolled her eyes playfully and gently tugged the Afshin’s wrist forward so that his hand rested on her stomach. “Do you feel it? Right there?”

The first time Dara had felt his daughter kick, he was wracked with tears. He hadn’t moved from the spot where he had knelt before Nahri until she told him that the kicking was probably over for a while. As the frequency increased, Dara’s tears had been replaced with the excitement of a boy receiving a gift that exceeded his wildest expectations. He could tell it was a source of amusement for his wife, but he didn’t mind being unintentionally amusing every once in a while.

“Is she warn-“

_“BOOM!”_

A low, insidious rumble sounded from outside the house. The two recognized it as the alarm spell they had placed on the tree line. 

Nahri frowned. “Whoever they are, they’re lucky I’m up at this ungodly hour…”

“It could just be an animal,” Dara shrugged, standing. “Wait here. If it is a patient, I may be able to help instead. You can pretend to be asleep.”

It was true. He was well versed in setting bones, distributing remedies, and applying ointments. He could even brew the more simple potions. Years of observing Nahri had rubbed off on the warrior, though his natural talent was still the bow.

“Well, your bedside manner could use some work, Dara,” Nahri called after him.

Chuckling, Dara peered out the kitchen window to try and spy what was approaching.

The air was sucked from his lungs. His eyes widened in horror.

Walking through the tree line, as limber and sickening a sight as ever, were four ifrit.

Dara’s teeth clenched. He blinked trying to wake himself from this nightmare. This couldn’t be real. They couldn’t have been found. Not now. And was he any match for them? With no slave magic? How would he protect Nahri? How would he protect their unborn daughter? 

_You are Darayavahoush e-Afshin. The Scourge of Qui-Zi. Son of Artash. You can handle four ifrits._

But how many more lurked in the shadows?

As they continued up the mountain trail, feline eyes scoping out the darkness, Dara realized his time was running short.

And to his horror, he realized that the ifrit in the back of the party was Qandisha.

“Dara, you’re quiet-“

Dara whirled around in time see Nahri entering the kitchen. He clamped a hand over her mouth. Nahri’s eyes widened, then flickered to the window. He struggled to maintain a composed expression for her. His whole world seemed to be crashing down all around him. Time was ticking. Dara knew what he had to do. 

The protective curse on the doors and windows would buy them time, but not much. 

Dara swiftly and silently guided Nahri out of the kitchen and to the hallway. He grabbed the bow and quiver he’d set on the floor when they came downstairs tonight.

Nahri pried his fingers from her mouth. He raised a finger to her lips. A fire blazed in her eyes that made Dara's heart sink.

“There’s no time to argue with me,” he said, voice low and quiet. “Grab the bag in the infirmary, go out the back door, and up the mountain trail. Do not stop-“

“Dara, no, I-“

“You remember the forked tree and the secret path to the left? Take it and keep following it East…”

“...You _cannot_ be serious-“

“...and when you reach Dubhar get a horse. Take it all the way to Daevabad. You need to get past the veil.”

Nahri's jaw had dropped, her eyes were wide and swimming with tears. Dara swallowed the lump in his throat.

His hand came up, threading in her curls. “I will take the other horse and meet you there tomorrow afternoon,” Dara lied. “Do not look back.”

She shook her head at him. “No.”

“For once don’t argue with me,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Dara slung the quiver of his shoulders, grabbed an arrow, and notched it in his bow. He jerked his head toward the back door. 

Nahri stood still as a statue, her hands were frozen over her stomach. It was hard to believe that just moments ago they’d be sitting in the window sill discussing their happy ending. The future of their family. Dara’s chest burned. 

_They will have a future. They will have a happy ending. You can make sure of that!_

He tried to memorize the shape of her eyes and the curve of her lips. What he wouldn't give to see her smile just one more time. Oh, well.

“Go!” Dara hissed through gritted teeth.

He should’ve realized that issuing a command to the most stubborn woman in the world was a poor decision. She stepped forward and grabbed the arrow from his hand. He reached for it but she was slicing her palm with the tip. 

Soaking it with Nahid blood - poisonous to the ifrit.

Tears rolling down her cheeks she handed it back to him and continued much in the same fashion. Grabbing an arrow from his quiver and slicing her hand. Stitching the skin back together then grabbing the next. 

By the time they heard the whispers of the nearing ifrit, she’d soaked all by five of his arrowheads in her blood.

Dara opened his mouth to order her away again, but she’d pressed her lips to his in a bruising kiss. He inhaled the scent of her hair and skin. His fingers grazed her bump one last time. 

And then she left him, shuffling to the infirmary then out the door. She didn’t look back.

He nocked the arrow again and tried to form a plan. He took in a deep breath through his nose. Where was the warrior from fourteen hundred years ago? Where was The Scourge? Hell, where was the man who had absconded with a shafit girl, narrowly escaping a pack of ghouls a decade ago?

_“This is them, alright.”_

Dara recognized Aeshma's voice.

 _“Do you think the well was her doing? Can’t imagine he’d want to see one of these again,”_ a woman laughed. 

Qandisha.

The sound of her voice was all the start he needed. 

Dara climbed the stairs as silently as possible. With any luck, they would break through the door and funnel up the stairs giving him a clean shot.

Or he could take out whoever entered first, hide in the bedroom, and hope the pack split up so he could take them out one by one.

Yes, he could shoot the first through the lungs. Then one would likely scope out the downstairs and the other two would come upstairs. Hopefully one of the two would go into the former guest room that was now a nursery and the other into the bedroom where Dara could attempt to silently take them out.

Dara stepped backward into the bedroom and drew back his bow, aiming at the door. 

He had no idea how much backup the ifrit had with them. Hopefully none. Hopefully, they assumed that leading a quiet life in the forest had made Dara less of a threat. 

Whoever was sending them wouldn’t have expended their entire army to claim the life of one Afshin and the Banu Nahida.

The bar on the door levitated from its place, noiselessly falling to the floor and the hinges squeaked unsettlingly. From Dara’s spot at the top of the stairs, he could see the clawed hands of an ifrit trying to work through the security curse. It was a strong one, but not too strong for soldiers who had been honing their magic for centuries on end.

Dara winced at the crackling noise that was followed by the visual dissipating of the curse he had placed, it crumbled from the doorway like a veil made of sinewy brass.

“Cinvat and I will take the lower level. Aeshma, Vizaresh, you scope out the upstairs,” Qandisha muttered. “They may have heard that.”

Dara sneered waiting for them to step inside so he could take the first lethal shot. Damn, he hoped it was Qandisha. To end her life before could say a word would be justice in his eyes. She enjoyed the sound of her own voice very much. 

“And remember, Manizeh wants them _both_ alive _._ ”

There was that name again. The name of Nahri’s long-dead mother. It didn’t matter. They could think about that later.

“ _But,_ if the Afshin should attack then, of course, we need to defend ourselves and cannot be blamed for any harm that comes to him.”

_Such loyal followers this Manizeh has…_

His ears piqued as he heard the sound he’d been waiting for. The quiet groan of the first floorboard.

Dara swiftly leaned out of the bedroom doorway and loosed the arrow. He didn’t stay to watch what followed. He needed to keep his position secret. He heard a yelp and some vile choking noises.

“Cinvat,” hissed Aeshma - more aggravated than forlorn. 

He pushed the unsettling sounds to the back of his mind and crossed to the far side of their bedroom behind the wardrobe, planting himself against it so that when an ifrit entered he would be obscured.

If just one entered, he would plunge the arrow he’d just removed from the quiver through their throat. If there were two, he’d loose two shots hopefully hitting them both before they could strike him with a scythe. 

They knew he was here now. They weren’t speaking anymore.

He strained his ears and sure enough, heard two sets of feet coming up the stairs. His fist grasped the arrow, holding it over the string of his bow in case it would need to be notched.

_If it is just the three of them you could make it. You could see Nahri. You could meet your daughter. Keep your head._

Dara took in another deep breath, steadying himself.

“Creator, Aeshma, look at this!”

Dara inwardly cursed. So they were scoping out each room in pairs. They were smarter than he’d given them credit for. 

“Is this a… nursery?” Vizaresh said. “Do you think they’ve left? Maybe it wasn't the Afshin, maybe they had a trap…”

“Perhaps,” Aeshma murmured. “But no baby has slept here yet… You can tell. The glass bottles there are clean.”

Dara closed his eyes. He prayed that they assumed both he and Nahri were hidden in this house. He shuddered to think of the ifrit finding Nahri in the forest. She could barely get out of bed without his help these days, much less outrun these monsters.

“I bet they’ve run for it. If the rumors we’ve heard are true then he wouldn’t leave his Banu Nahida vulnerable and unattended…” Vizaresh said, the volume of his voice louder now.

Fine, there were still just two of them upstairs. He could draw their attention and deal with-

“Qandisha, come up here!”

“I take it you’re screaming because they’ve left, Vizaresh?”

 _Damn_. 

He needed to act fast. 

Dara grabbed Nahri’s hairbrush off the dresser adjacent to him and threw it across the room. 

Three sets of feet. He had quite literally backed himself into a corner. 

Dara notched the arrow and drew it back, aiming it directly at the door.

Aeshma was the first to step inside the bedroom.

Dara let go of the arrow and watched as it lodged itself in Aeshma’s chest. He choked, staggering forward and onto the ground, grasping at his ribs.

He had no time to prepare for Vizaresh immediately following with a roar of anger. He quickly nocked another arrow but when he released it the ifrit neatly dodged it quickly closing the distance between them.

Not thinking, only acting, Dara sidestepped and fell backward out of the open window. He landed with a thud that knocked the wind out of him in the bushes. Before he could draw in a single breath, Vizaresh had leaped through the window and landed at his side.

Vizaresh reared back his scythe and Dara rolled out of the way with barely a second to spare. He scrambled to his feet and with a shaking hand drew back another arrow.

Vizaresh bared his pointed teeth at Dara.

“Go ahead. Waste another arrow soaked with your wife’s filthy blood, Afshin,” snarled Vizaresh. “Or you can fight fair without dirty tricks.”

“Dirty tricks are all he has left, Viraresh,” Qandisha said stepping out of the front door and joining her fellow ifrit. “The rumors are true. He’s mortal now.” Her eyes danced as she took him in. “His pure blood has preserved him well over the past decade. He looks just the same as he did all those centuries ago - how fitting it would be to drown him in his own well…” 

Dara paled at the threat but kept his jaw in check. He itched to shoot at her, but not knowing their reinforcements he could not spare an arrow if he wasn't certain it would deal any damage. Qandisha and Vizaresh still stood their ground, each gripping their scythes and watching him expectantly.

“Well since he’s no longer got his slave magic, I doubt Manizeh will find him useful. She said we would be well rewarded for returning him alive but she’s got other promises I’d rather collect on than a bounty.”

“Yes, Vizaresh, I can't imagine she’ll be _too_ displeased with us if he didn’t survive - for good this time I should think,” mused Qandisha. She tilted her head to the side, eyes flickering with amusement. “We saw the nursery, Darayavahoush. Congratulations.”

She was trying to get a reaction. Well, she wouldn’t succeed. He would hold his ground. Dara just needed to keep his cool. He needed to resurface the General Afshin he had once been.

“It’s a shame you won’t get to meet them though.”

_It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter._

She raised her brows, surprised he had not yet broken. “Vizaresh, if the Banu Nahida is not here. That must mean she is unaccompanied. And if she didn’t pass us through the front door… she must have gone out the back one that I found,” Qandisha said over her shoulder. “Why don’t you fetch her? And when you do, don’t be gentle. The camp doesn’t have enough food for _two_ new residents.”

Dara did his best not to let it get to him. It was only talk. It was meant to rile him up. 

But the Vizaresh turned towards the backwoods with a sickening smile. 

It was not only talk.

Dara fired the arrow. It narrowly missed Vizaresh’s throat, nicking his neck. He’d been too hasty. 

Taking advantage of Dara’s exposed position, Vizaresh lunged for him with his scythe. He ducked out of the way, quickly snatching another arrow.

Before he could let it fly, Qandisha’s scythe came over him, braced against his throat as he was forced to back into her. Her strong hand gripped his shoulder. Vizaresh sauntered towards him smiling.

“He’s not changed a bit,” he laughed.

“Drop the arrow,” Qandisha growled in Dara’s ear.

He held it tightly. He could still get out of this.

“ _Drop it_ and we’ll ensure that Nahri and your unborn are delivered to Manizeh safely.”

An internal war waged itself in Dara. Could he really trust the ifrit? Did he have any other choice? Qandisha has a scythe to his throat and even if he broke from her there was still Vizaresh to contend with. The best-case scenario was Dara would kill Qandisha, Vizaresh would kill Dara and then Vizaresh would go find Nahri.

Qandisha continued to walk him backward. He knew where she was taking him. The well. For all the fear he’d overcome of water, he didn’t relish being drowned again.

But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Nahri. So Dara dropped his arrow. Aeshma grinned and he could feel Qandisha’s chest rumble with laughter against his back.

_Think of something. There’s got to be one more trick up your sleeve!_

He could draw this out. Give Nahri more time to escape. Perhaps beg for mercy or try to bargain. It was too late for him but maybe he could save her.

“Are you going to beg again, General Afshin?”

“No,” Dara snarled.

“No? But you’ve got so much more to lose this time,” taunted Vizaresh.

“That’s right,” Qandisha said, her breath hot against his neck. “Yes, last time we killed you, you were alone in the world. Now you’re making a widow out of your wife.”

Dara’s blood boiled. He fought the urge to thrash against Qandisha and fight back. It would be over too soon. He needed to slow things down. 

All too soon Qandisha stopped. They’d arrived at the well. Dara knew the distance from the front door perfectly even without being able to see it.

“Vizaresh, I saw a stone pathway in their back garden. Grab one of the big ones. Quickly.”

With a satisfied grin, Vizaresh turned to go towards the back of the house leaving Dara in Qandisha’s arms.

“I’m impressed you two managed to hide out for twelve years,” she said, stretching her neck so Dara could see her out of the corner of his eye. “It must have been difficult to go unrecognized with your marks though. I’m very relieved that the girl couldn’t remove those when she made you mortal.” The sharp tips of the fingers on her free hand danced along his arm and shoulder, tapping the rungs on the unsupported ladder of his markings. 

Vizaresh sure was taking his time finding a rock and Dara was grateful for it. He was speechless before this monster. There wasn’t a single word he could come up with to say to her. His throat was so dry. All words forgotten.

“Did you come up with a name for your dirt blood child, Afshin?” Qandisha purred. 

Dara opened his mouth to answer but came up short. The fear, the rage, and the sorrow he felt were too immense to put to words. 

Qandisha chuckled darkly. “Vizaresh, hurry up! We’ve still got to catch up to the girl.”

Vizaresh rounded the side of the house holding a large rock as though it was light as a feather. “I thought I heard something and was investigating…”

At the sight, Dara felt the blood leave his face. He fought the urge to run. 

Qandisha laughed again.“I remember _this_ man…” She crossed in front of Dara, scythe still to his throat and motioned for him to sit on the edge of the well. 

He obeyed with shaking knees. He tried to fix his dark eyes in a glare but could feel the expression waning as Vizaresh closed the space between them. He cut the rope off of the well’s pail and used his clawed fingers to fasten it around the rock.

Dara had never felt quite so helpless. He wasn’t even putting up a fight.

_There is no fight. And the sooner you fight the sooner you die and the sooner they find Nahri._

He closed his eyes and thought of her. Her clever smile and deep, dark eyes. The way her curls felt in his fingers. Her kiss on their wedding night. Their shared tears when she told him that she was pregnant. This second chance he had been granted had been a life well spent. Dara could die in peace knowing that his wife and daughter were safe.

“Not even a ‘please,’ Afshin?” Vizaresh muttered, tying the rope to Dara’s ankles. 

“No.” It was all he could manage. 

Qandisha tilted her head, watching him intently. Her scythe was still aimed at him. His hand itched for his bow and part of him was tempted to call on his magic to summon it. 

_You can’t fight this time._

“You’ve had centuries more than most men, Afshin and three different lives. Count yourself lucky,” Vizaresh said fastening a tight knot around his ankles and standing.

He took a place beside Qandisha. They both stared down at him like animals stalking their prey. Dara tried to envelop himself in better thoughts. Thoughts of Nahri and his sister. Tamima. He would see her soon.

“Why don’t you get a head start on the girl, Vizaresh. I can finish off here.”

Vizaresh opened his mouth to respond and froze - eyes fixed straight ahead of him. Dara glanced over his shoulder to see what the ifrit was looking at but there was nothing except trees.

Ash began to bead down the ifrit’s skin, his black veins began to turn an ash blue. He choked up a spurt of black blood spattering Dara’s face, then sank to his knees. Face to face with Vizaresh, Dara saw the point of a knife through his throat. 

Qandisha looked horrified as Vizaresh fell forward onto Dara, two more knives lodged in his back. Dara recognized the knives. They were Nahri’s.

He looked up to see her at the far end of the house. Around her wrist the pouch of throwing knives from their backyard training range. Her left hand was covered in blood. The other hand had another knife poised, dripping with crimson liquid, this time aimed at Qandisha.

“Nahri, don’t-“

But she’d already thrown the blood-soaked knife. Qandisha deflected it deftly with her scythe. Nahri grabbed another, slicing her palm again. 

“Nahri, is it?” Qandisha said in Arabic. “You realize you’ve killed some of my best men?”

“You realize that you need me and you’re trying to kill my husband?” Nahri snapped back.

Dara could not fathom his wife’s courage as she stood before this monster, the most vulnerable of the three armed with only a pouch of throwing knives and her poisonous blood.

“You make a fair point,” Qandisha relented. “I will not harm you or kill your Afshin if you come with me. I will take you both to Manizeh… your mother.”

“Her mother is dead.”

“Afshin, you’ve found your voice,” leered Qandisha. “I suppose that you could take your husband’s word for it. But wouldn’t you like to see for yourself? To meet her? To see what she has planned for the Geziri? The people who tried to marry you off like you were nothing. Who tried to humiliate you. Who imprisoned you and your Afshin?”

Dara didn’t take his eyes off Nahri. She didn’t even flinch.

“Ask your Afshin, then. He’ll tell you that the last time a Qahtani ruled it ended poorly for his people and yours. Manizeh can give you and your Afshin and your child the future that you deserve.”

Dara recognized the look on Nahri’s face. She was trying to read Qandisha. The idea of Nahri treating an ifrit as one of her marks brought a hysterical chuckle to Dara’s lips that he quickly fought off. 

“You know I’m telling the truth don’t you, little healer?” Qandisha said, taking another step towards Nahri. “Come with me, meet your mother, claim your birthright.”

“That’s alright,” Nahri said. She threw the knife in her hand but Dara could tell she hadn’t tried hard to aim. She was trying to buy herself time. 

The rope still fastened to his ankles, Dara pulled one of the knives off of Vizaresh’s body and aimed at Qandisha. Scythe or not, Qandisha was flanked by two angry people with a lot to lose, both holding knives coated in poisonous Nahid blood. Her eyes were wide with fury and panic and just as Dara reared back the knife to throw it, Qandisha was gone.

Dara looked all about trying to find her in the darkness. He looked in the sky, in the shadows, between the trees. She was nowhere to be found. His hand trembled as he tightened his fist around the knife. He would not lower it. Not with a chance of her coming back.

“Dara-“

He jumped at Nahri’s sudden touch on his shoulder. 

“Dara, she’s gone. We’ve got to go.”

He couldn’t move. Just like that, Aeshma and Vizaresh were dead. His home was no longer safe. His wife was here, alive and well, and just within reach. Dara’s brain struggled to fit the pieces together.

“Here,” Nahri said, bracing a hand on her lower back and trying to kneel before him. 

This seemed to sober him.

“No, no, no, don’t! Just sit down. Catch your breath,” Dara said, taking the throwing knife and starting to cut at the rope binding his ankles. “Are you alright?”

Nahri snorted. “No! My husband told _me_ , his heavily pregnant wife, to run into the woods _alone_ and leave him in the hands of the ifrit! I’m mad at you!”

His feet coming loose from the rope, Dara released a breathless laugh. “I’ll make it up to you, my love.”

Dara unsteadily stood to his feet and stumbled towards Nahri, kneeling where she sat on the edge of the well. He took her hands in his and looked up into her enraged eyes.

“Aside from being livid with me, how are you?”

Nahri finally caught her breath and nodded at Dara. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Dara…”

“Yes?”

“Dara, we stick together. Alright? Whatever it is, we work together.”

He wanted to argue with Nahri but she was right. In Cairo, he had saved her. With the rukh, she had saved him. This whole beautiful life they had made together.

He brought her knuckles to his lips. “Together,” Dara said reverently. He moved his hands to Nahri’s bump. “Aye, look at me. How about her? Is she well?” 

Nahri nodded. “Ya, she’s okay. She’s strong.”

Dara pressed a kiss to her belly, then her lips, then her head. “Good, she’s like her mother,” he said, still trying to catch his breath. “You’ve got the bag, yes? Good. Let’s get the horse. We’re going to Daevabad.”

“Yes.”

Dara stood and helped pull Nahri to her feet. Bracing a hand on the small of her back, he guided his wife to their stable, his brain barely piecing together the events that had just transpired. She was full of surprises to this day. 

Nahri looked up at the horse and groaned. “This will be a long ride, Afshin.”

“I will do my best to make it fast.”

“Have you forgotten all that you’ve learned from me?” Nahri sighed, raising a brow. “You’ll induce labor and I am not keen to hold in a baby all the way to Daevabad.”

_Shit._

“Then we’ll go slow, but we’ll need to take a longer route. Around the mountains. For obvious reasons.”

Defeatedly, Nahri nodded.

“Alright, let me help you up, _habibti_.”

Nahri shifted herself onto the saddle with the help of Dara’s careful hands. 

“You aren’t going to be able to ride as usual…” he exhaled.

“What?” 

“You’ll need to scoot forward. I’ll be sitting in the back th-“

“No, no, no-“

“Nahri, I do not wish to wound you, but if you sit in the back… you won’t be able to reach my waist,” Dara said, gesturing to her distended stomach. 

“Dara, I’m terrible at riding-“

“I will _still hold the reins_ ,” Dara said emphatically. “I am doing all of the work. You just have a better view… Nahri.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if any of the action was hard to follow - I’m rusty there not to mention trying to crank out this whole bad boy before I move


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Dara's perspective: Dara and Nahri return to Daevabad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the gaps in posting, friends! Thanks for still following along if you are!

Ghassan had received the pair with as much diplomacy as he could manage. There was a hint of resentment in his eyes for the girl who had ruined his plan for uniting the tribes through a sham marriage to his son.

His _son_ , who Nahri and Dara noticed, was still accompanied by a jolly Jamshid despite his marriage to a Daeva noblewoman. Perhaps their love had survived after all. Dara was not surprised. His experience with Nahri had taught him that with enough strength in a relationship, you would find the will to be with that person despite the circumstances. No matter how impossible it seemed.

 _Also_ not to Dara’s surprise, Ghassan had ordered that he and Nahri were to be confined to the palace until he and his royal guard discussed how to pursue the ifrit and these rumors of Manizeh. He’d also offered up the Qaid - Alizayd - to personally guard them for the duration of their stay. Additionally, noticing Nahri’s state he _graciously_ allowed them to utilize Nisreen for the delivery of their child.

Dara had fought off a snide remark at Ghassan’s magnanimous tone for providing them something as basic as medical care.

He bit his tongue, reminding himself that he was in Ghassan's realm again, and this time, he and Nahri did not have the benefit of a grand entrance to the city that would've secured their safety. For all anyone else knew, the Banu Nahida and Afshin were still in the wooded mountains. If anyone happened upon their home littered with three dead ifrit they would assume the pair had been kidnapped and killed. Ghassan could kill them here and now and no one would be the wiser.

Realizing this and what he had to lose, Dara found it unusually easy to control himself. His throat still itched with a biting remark for the Qahtani, but he would not endanger Nahri or his child. 

His child.

Dara - and Nahri for that matter - marveled at the fact that after such a long journey she had not gone into labor. Dara also marveled at Alizayd’s lack of animosity in his presence. While the prince didn’t exactly make an effort to have a casual conversation with Dara, he wasn’t hurling insults either. Probably more for Nahri’s sake than his, but Dara was grateful all the same.

After settling into their quarters, Ali headed off to fetch Nisreen. Dara helped Nahri to bed, removing her shoes.

She had made a feeble attempt to soothe her and Dara’s aching muscles with her magic, but the pounding in their heads could only be helped by food. They’d survived on a modest amount of stale manna over their journey that had taken fourteen hours on the backroads.

“I’ll ask the Qaid for some food when he returns,” Dara said sitting at the foot of the bed and placing a hand on Nahri’s knee. 

She nodded, her eyes hazy with exhaustion. The sight was rather alarming, but he tried not to let his concern show on his face.

“Do you think they’ll still find us here? Not the ifrit but whoever this supposed mother of mine is working with?” Nahri asked, taking a sip of the water Dara had poured her.

Dara shook his head. “It seems to me as though she relied heavily on the ifrit. We’ve depleted her resources. Whoever is leading this army will have had whatever plans they’ve made to attack the Geziri delayed. At least a little.”

“That’s good.” Her voice was wary, distant.

Dara glanced around the familiar room soon realizing that they were indeed in Nahri’s old quarters. The quarters where she had made him mortal. A fond smile crept across his lips as he took in the large bed, the window he’d clambered through, the dresser where Nahri collapsed, and the nightstand where her green drink had sat. This was the place where he’d been reunited with his relic. Where he had glimpsed the dark Daeva eyes of his family once again reflected in his own. Where he’d went to the garden and felt the sun on his skin.

“Well, we’re back to square one,” Nahri sighed, setting down her water. “Trapped in the palace again.”

Dara shrugged lightly. “I think that we are in a somewhat more favorable position. You will not be obliged to marry anyone and I will not live with the perpetual threat of being sent away from you. We can also be alone with one another without Nisreen or anyone else for that matter being scandalized.”

A knock came from the door. Nahri waved a hand and it swung open.

Nisreen walked in carrying a tray of various instruments and bottles. Her expression was both hesitant and overjoyed.

She all but threw the tray onto Nahri’s dresser before crossing to the bed and taking a seat on the edge in front of Dara. Nisreen grabbed Nahri’s hands in hers.

“I want to be furious with you for leaving me without saying goodbye, Banu Nahida,” the woman said, her voice trembling. “But I understand why you had to and it brings me happiness to see that you’ve been so blessed.” Nisreen looked to Dara now with a wry smile. “Even if it did mean you married your Afshin _,_ which I’m _certain_ your ancestors would have disapproved of.”

Nahri grinned. “Good? Is that the whole speech you've practiced then?”

Nisreen rolled her eyes and cupped Nahri’s cheek gently. “You’ve not changed.”

“No, she has not,” Dara grunted pushing himself to stand. He crossed to the dresser and poured himself a cup of water. “She’s a little more patient and better with knife throwing, but aside from that-“

“ _You’ve_ certainly changed,” Nisreen murmured, taking Dara in.

Dara realized that this was the first time anyone outside of the patients he and Nahri received and the ifrit who had attacked them was seeing him mortal. He suddenly felt very self-conscious and crossed his arms over his chest, raising his chin a fraction and offering Nisreen a roguish smile. She flushed, pursing her lips.

“I can read and write now if that’s what you mean.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Nisreen said flatly. A warmer expression played on her lined features. “But truly, you both look well, even if one of you was in no fit state to traverse Daevastana on horseback for half a day. Nahri, can you tell me where you’re at?”

Nahri nodded. “Eight months and maybe three weeks.” She placed her hands on her stomach and closed her eyes, brows drawing together in concentration. “She’s in a good position, but one that suggests I’m really, _really_ close.”

“Are you in pain?”

“A headache and backache, but nothing labor-related.”

“And when was the last time you felt movement from her?”

Dara’s heart sank and he did his best to keep his features neutral. He hadn’t even thought about that. Truthfully, and perhaps more logically, he had taken Nahri’s word when she said that the baby was fine. But the more worried part of his brain, the overprotective father to be, suggested that no kicking meant that his child had been harmed. He clenched his fists, eyes flickering to Nahri.

“No movement since before the attack, but there’s still a heartbeat. No developing organs damaged to my knowledge. My picture of her hasn’t changed when I focus.”

Her words brought him some comfort, but not much. Dara was aware his company right now might do more harm than good. He pushed off the dresser.

“I’m going to see about getting you a meal,” he said, crossing to her bedside. “Perhaps some lentil soup or feteer, ya?”

“Sure,” Nahri said, taking his hand and giving his knuckles a comforting squeeze.

Dara looked to Nisreen with a teasing stare. “Do you think you can refrain from delivering our child before I return?”

“I will do my best, Darayavahoush,” said Nisreen warmly.

Attempting to give Nahri a smile more confident than how he truly felt, Dara left the room. He exhaled heavily, closing his eyes and massaging his temples, leaning against the wall outside the door. He tried to gather himself. They couldn’t afford his anxiety right now.

“Afshin!”

Dara opened his eyes, straightening abruptly and trying to compose himself.

Jamshid stood before him looking as jovial as ever. He looked a little older, his jawline was more defined and cheekbones were a little sharper. He looked only a bit younger than Dara now. 

Dara fought off a worried expression for his friend. Muntadhir had appeared much the same as before when Dara had seen him, but the emir was very good at putting on a brave face. And as for how "jolly" Jamshid had seemed earlier, Dara knew the boy well enough to recognize that was his typical demeanor despite how he truly felt.

“Hello, Pramukh,” Dara said, managing a smile.

Jamshid’s brows furrowed. “I have heard about the unfortunate events that led you back to Daevabad. Are you both alright?” 

The Afshin nodded, stroking his jaw. “Yes, yes, just settling in. I thought that the Qaid was to be guarding our quarters.”

The corner of Jamshid’s lip hitched up. “It was Alizayd that sent me actually. Said that you would prefer me to him. But I can leave if you find my company so disagreeable.”

“No, no, I’m very glad to see you, my friend,” Dara smiled, clapping the Daeva on the back. Judging by the broad smile that spread on Jamshid's lips, having Darayavahoush e-Afshin treat him as a friend and not an admirer had not lost its luster. “Could you actually show me to the kitchen? Nahri and I could use some food.”

“Of course, let’s go to the kitchens. They’ll have just finished cleaning up from lunch.”

Jamshid and Dara strolled down the palace halls. Dara received some skeptical looks and even glares from the Geziri guards. A member of the Daeva Brigade passed them and offered a brief bow.

“So… how is the emir?” Dara asked mildly. “Does he favor married life?”

“Why ask me?”

Dara noted that Jamshid did a fine job of keeping his tone neutral and not defensive. 

He shrugged. “You are his personal guard and last I checked you were good friends.”

They rounded the corridor arriving at the steps that led down to the kitchens.

“The emir doesn’t see his wife much outside of their evenings. She spends most of her days at the children’s home and Grand Temple,” Jamshid remarked, quite happily, Dara noticed. 

“I see. That’s good, I imagine.”

Jamshid shrugged nonchalantly. “I suppose.”

Dara felt a paternal urge sweep over him. It had been slowly developing over the past few months, but it was also impulsive. 

“I’m glad that your friendship has not suffered.”

Jamshid froze and raised a hand, stopping Dara in his tracks. He looked at the Afshin out of the corner of his eye, studying his expression. Dara cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“Creator, you know…” Jamshid muttered. “Dammit.”

“What is it that I am supposed to know?” he tried innocently.

Jamshid was not fooled. He exhaled and looked up and down the staircase, searching for any listening ears. No one was in sight.

Jamshid placed his hands on his hips and faced Dara with a wary expression. “How did you find out?”

“I… had my suspicions…”

“Which were confirmed by?”

“Nahri,” Dara cringed. “She-she also had suspicions…”

Jamshid looked to the ceiling desperately. “And _those_ were confirmed by?”

“Does it matter if no one else knows-“

“Yes, it matters.” Jamshid’s eyes were deadly serious. “Who told Nahri and who have _you_ told?”

“No one, we’ve told no one,” Dara said as calmly as possible. It seemed to have a minor effect on Jamshid as the tension in his shoulders eased. “And Nahri was told by Ali, alright? But I have not and shall not-“

“Oh, thank the Creator,” Jamshid exhaled, pressing a hand to his heart. “That’s a relief.”

A beat. “It is?”

Jamshid nodded, still catching his breath. “Yes, Ali approached me about seven years ago. Have you both known for that long?”

“Yes…” Dara said apprehensively. “As I said, we have told no one. Not that we really have anyone _to tell._ ”

To Dara’s surprise, Jamshid’s smile returned as effervescent as ever. 

“I dare not tempt fate by speaking on this much further but rest assured that Muntadhir and I are fine,” Jamshid said quietly. “And his wife is very understanding to say the least. As is her lady’s maid if you take my meaning.”

Dara opened his mouth to ask Jamshid to elaborate but he was cut off. “Alright, shall we? To the kitchen?”

Dara and Jamshid collected an entire platter of food for Nahri. Dara tried to convince Jamshid to join them but he had a pressing engagement with Muntadhir at the opening of a new tavern.

A very quiet cook prepared a plentiful meal of feteer and vegetable kebabs and a pot of floral tea. He said not a word when Dara thanked him, just nodded with a smile.

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me where you are heading… I’ll have to find out through the Royal Guard _again_ ,” Jamshid said with a bitter smile as they walked down the hall towards Nahri’s quarters.

“Well, when you find out please let me know because I have no idea,” Dara muttered.

Creator he had tried not to think about that. One step at a time. That’s all he could manage right now. The whole ride to Daevabad was in almost complete silence. The entire way all Dara could think about was where they would be protected again. Where they could raise a child in safety. He fought off a shudder. He would not worry about that now. Not yet. 

“But I am truly sorry that I left so suddenly. I hope that you can understand-“

“There are no hard feelings, Afshin. Once I’d heard what had happened I figured that you had no choice,” Jamshid said, his tone was good-natured but the sheepish smile on his lips hinted at something more.

“Well, if there were no hard feelings why did you not come to visit?”

Jamshid shot Dara a skeptical look. “After the greeting you gave the royal guard they, _and_ The Daeva Brigade were forbidden from visiting you. Especially with the news of your good deeds being spread far and wide,” he explained. He lowered his voice. “The King was not eager to rile up the Daeva by pursuing their heroes.”

Dara fought off the urge to say that he wouldn’t have had to attack them if they hadn’t shown up armed to the teeth. Instead he just nodded without a word. 

They arrived at the door to Nahri’s quarters. 

“Well, do not be a stranger,” Jamshid smiled. “I’ll be around. If Nahri feels up to it I’d love to see her.”

“I’m sure after she eats she’ll promptly pass out, but I’ll pass that along, Pramukh. She'll be glad to have your company as well.”

Dara and Nahri sat in the garden outside her quarters, overlooking the city. The sun was rising setting the gleaming rooftops of the city alight. Despite them being essentially prisoners in the palace, the luxury was a nice break during such a stressful time.

Dara stood behind Nahri, his arms wrapped around her shoulders and hands atop her bump. His chin rested in the crook of her neck and out of the corner of his eye he admired the way her skin glowed in the sunlight. 

“You are certain?” he murmured, lips brushing her ear.

Nahri nodded. “Tamima is a beautiful name.”

She’d brought up the suggestion once or twice over the months but it wasn’t until last night that they’d settled on it. His sister being the namesake of his firstborn daughter was a gift he didn’t think Nahri understood the value of. He would not question her decision again. Dara was over the moon about it and Nahri appeared to be as well.

“Well, if it is a boy and you are wrong?” Dara asked.

“I dunno. What was your father’s name?”

“Nahri,” he sighed, his lips tilting up in a smile. “You needn’t name our children after my family alone.”

“Well I haven’t really got any family of my own and I don’t know any good Daeva names,” she shrugged.

“My love, they are the same as human names for the most part.”

“I have never met a single human soul named Darayavahoush.”

“Because no one should have such a mouthful of a name,” Dara chuckled. “And it is an old name.”

“It’s a very handsome name,” she said with a sly smile. 

“After learning to read and write I would also like to point out it is a pain to spell my name in any language.”

“Well, what name did you have in mind then?”

Dara swallowed the lump that had seemingly developed instantaneously in his throat. “Khayzur?”

Nahri laughed softly. “That is a perfect name. Yes.” One of her hands raised up to cup his cheek behind her and she turned her head just slightly to look at him. “But, it is _definitely_ a girl. Maybe next time, baba.”

His stomach flipped as he imagined the first time he would be referred to as "baba" by his daughter.

The corner up Dara’s lip tilted up. “Next time, eh?”

She patted his face lightly and returned her hand back to her belly. “I’m merely collecting on the ‘brood of Nahids’ you said that I deserved,” Nahri shrugged. Her voice was more somber this time. “I didn’t grow up with a family, Dara… It would make me happy to build one of my own. But only if you agree of course-“

“Silence yourself, beautiful woman,” he smirked. “I was a member of a large family and one of my most significant, unfulfilled desires was to spend more time with them. We were always so busy serving the Nahids that we only saw one another during training, meals, or on assignments once we were old enough to serve.” Dara kissed her cheek gently. “Nothing would make me happier than a few pickpocketing Nahids who had nothing but time to interact and get to know their siblings and parents.”

Dara briefly found himself envious of his unborn child. They would have Nahri as a mother for one, and they were under no obligation to be dedicated soldiers. They would have a childhood filled with love and happiness. There would be no ticking clock until they had to sign over their lives in unrelenting duty. They would never have to act as weapons.

These were things Dara recognized he had to protect them from. Creator, he hoped he could protect them. 

Nahri turned in his arms so that she could face him, probably curious and eager to read his facial expression. His hands did not leave her bump. If he had been only slightly more attached to her over the duration of the pregnancy, he was now completely obsessed. Though he knew he could hardly be blamed after everything they’d been through.

“I wish they could’ve been born in our home,” she said softly. 

“Maybe next time,” Dara tried with weak optimism. “But at least you’ll have Nisreen. And you can see Jamshid and Ali. Perhaps even your closest friend Zaynab…”

Nahri bowed her head with a groan. “The last thing I want is for that gorgeous princess that helped me make a fool of myself to see me like this.”

“Like what, eh?” Dara gently lifted her chin with his knuckle. “Well rested and radiant?”

“Yes,” Nahri said, rolling her eyes with a defeated smile. “Yes, I would hate to make her jealous… Now that you mention it, when we first met she _did_ remark on how attractive you were so perhaps it’s too late to keep her from envying me.”

“I’m sure Alizayd would be livid if he’d been present for that conversation,” chuckled Dara. “But fortunately for him, by the time we encountered the Qahtani family I had long had eyes for another.”

“Oh, _long_ had eyes for _?_ ”

For all the bitter mutterings of his uncles that passion was fading in marriage, he had yet to see the evidence. Nahri’s insolence and biting wit had endured through the years, through all of the changes they'd experienced.

Taking her in now it struck him just how much they’d also both changed over the years. When he’d met her she was a malnourished con artist. Then she’d become a skilled and defiant healer. Eventually, she’d flourished into a Banu Nahida beyond the expectations established by the original Nahids. She healed anyone and everyone asking for nothing in return.

All of this was impressive, seeing her grow into her role, her purpose. But what he was grateful for, what he didn’t know how he had deserved, was how with every passing day his love grew for her more and more.

They’d built a home together, a life. She had grown from his assignment to his friend, to the woman he loved, and then to his wife. And now, standing before him twelve years later she was also the mother of his child. And when he compared her to the woman he’d encountered in Cairo to the woman he stood before now, he was baffled by how much more beautiful she’d become.

Over the years the softness of her cheeks had sharpened, the curve of her jaw more defined. He had caught her yanking out a curly grey thread of hair a month ago murmuring a curse under her breath and in all his years he never thought he would behold such a sight.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll be tempted to take you back inside to the bed, Afshin,” she purred.

Smiling, Dara pulled her to him by the small of her waist as much as her belly would allow. “I would be glad to endure such a fate.”

When Dara had first started taking on more daunting assignments as Afshin, he found an unexpected amount of patience was needed. In fact, he found that patience was more important than courage sometimes.

Fourteen hundred years later the mission that he most vividly recalled testing his patience was tailing a suspected informant for a week to find who they were meeting with. He had to sit outside various establishments for hours on end, just watching from afar for any activity. It had taken four days for Dara to yield any results.

He hadn’t known then that over a thousand years later, that mission would seem as easy as sparring with a new recruit compared to waiting on Nisreen to exit their quarters and tell him that Nahri was finally out of labor. That she was well and his daughter was healthy.

And it had all been all worth it. The anxiety, the waiting, the heart palpitations had all been worth it once they were reunited and he finally had laid eyes on his child.

Nahri was ordered by Nisreen to succumb to the will of fatigue after a little over an hour to which she reluctantly agreed, muttering something under her breath about how she was a grown woman. When Nisreen had offered to take their daughter to the infirmary so that the two could rest, Dara had reflexively protested.

Nisreen looked slightly taken aback at his direct response, then smiled fondly.

“As you wish, Afshin. She’s all yours.”

Nahri had been the one holding her since the delivery and when Nisreen placed Tamima in Dara’s arms for the first time he realized why his wife had been so reluctant to catch up on sleep. 

It was a breathtaking experience, holding his daughter. Cradling a life he had helped make in his arms. Seeing both himself and Nahri reflected in her appearance. He couldn’t wait till she could open her eyes.

“Perhaps take her to the garden so that the Banu Nahida may rest, Darayavahoush?”

He had only nodded, unable to form words as his feet carried him outside the bedroom and into the private garden, bathed in the orange glow of sunset. 

Dara was astounded with himself that he hadn’t started crying yet. Then Tamima opened her tiny mouth to yawn and the ancient warrior was reduced to tears. 

Dara couldn’t remember the last time he’d held an infant. He wasn’t even sure what to say to her. Would his voice frighten her?

Instead, he tried singing the songs he had sang for his sister whenever it was his responsibility to put her to bed. They weren’t your traditional lullabies of course. No mention of animals or pillows or the like. They were songs of partings and long nights and for the _most_ part appropriate for infant's ears. 

“Nahri won’t mind what I sing for you,” he muttered, still unable to look away from her sleeping face. “And I expect you to be every bit as stubborn as her, Tamima. I can’t have had all this practice with your mother for nothing.”

Hearing himself refer to Nahri as a mother made him blink in surprise. She was a mother now and he was a father and they always would be. 

_Unless Qandisha-_

Dara quickly scolded himself banishing the thought. That was ridiculous. He would protect them.

Dara bent his head pressing a gentle kiss to Tamima’s forehead.

“I will keep you safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I know that a thousand fanfics have named Dara's daughter Tamima but dammit it's perfect and I have no shame in using it. We all know that's what Chakraborty would want. Also, I've got a couple of more chapters written but I don't want to publish anything before I figure out where this is going so it may be a while till my next update - BUT when I do update after that it should be pretty regular. Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Nahri's perspective: Nahri struggles with motherhood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making my way through this fic little by little - It's gonna be another hot minute before the next one is published. This move is kicking my butt. Anyway, please enjoy this hefty dose of serotonin I wrote after reading about Zariaspa and their architecture online

Ghassan dispatched the Royal Guard _again_ to search for any signs of the ifrit and the "Manizeh" they claimed to work for. When his men returned just a month after Dara and Nahri’s arrival, they had found nothing.

Being confined to the palace was becoming unbearable for the two and whispers had started to make their way around Daevabad of their return. Nahri and Dara had approached Ghassan about leaving uncertain of where they would go, but knowing that soon living in Daevabad would be no safer than finding a new home outside the veil. One closer to civilization so they were more difficult to find. They couldn’t go back to their house outside of Safater without endangering the town and themselves.

Thankfully, as they packed their things, Kaveh approached them offering up his estate in Zariaspa until they could figure out something else or until the suspects who attacked them were apprehended. Nahri seemed a little wary at first, but Dara assured her that as a former house guest of the Pramukhs they could be trusted.

Goodbyes were exchanged with Ali, Nisreen, and even Muntadhir. Dara and Nahri thought of visiting the Grand Temple to say goodbye to Kartir but decided against it, not wanting to take any risks now that they had Tamima to look out for.

Jamshid and Kaveh escorted the two to Zariaspa. Tamima was surprisingly quiet all the way, which Dara stated had to do with how well-fed Nahri kept her and how attuned to her needs she was. It was almost as though she had a psychic connection to their daughter. The slightest hint of a cry and Nahri’s healing abilities would suggest indigestion and immediately they would burp her. A small whimper and before Tamima could shriek, Nahri recognized when she was hungry. However, a growl preempting what would become a cry warned them both with an unpleasant stench that Tamima needed to be changed.

In short, the two took to parenting like fish to water. Nahri attributed it to her gift of healing, but Dara reminded her that for over a decade the two had been working as a well-oiled machine hand in hand. It only made sense they would make a good team as mother and father.

Arriving at the Pramukh estate prompted a small gasp from both of them. Dara had mentioned that after staying in the Pramukh home in the Daeva quarter their Zariaspa residence was likely to be similarly lavish, but neither of them had pictured such a large, austere, marbled building, encircled by a tall iron gate. The home was for Jamshid and Kaveh alone but it had numerous guestrooms which they were all too happy to put to use. Especially for the Afshin and Banu Nahida.

While it had taken a few days for Nahri and Dara to settle in, the Pramukh estate started to feel like home.

In the early mornings, when Tamima would cry out for their attention from the bassinet (one of the many gifts for the new parents from a local Zariaspan) in the corner of their guest room, Nahri would take her on a walk about the house and grounds. Dara favored taking her to the stables or setting her in the bed between them. All of the above calmed her very quickly.

Today, Nahri had been the one to rise with Tamima and in turn the sun. She wrapped her in the wool blanket Ali had gifted them and doing her best not to wake Dara, exited their bedroom.

Jamshid had returned to Daevabad yesterday and Kaveh had set off on some obscure mission for Ghassan, which meant she had the entire expanse of the estate to herself. 

“You want to go outside?” Nahri asked, smiling softly at the barely awake baby in her arms.

She stepped outside into the back grounds, still in her nightgown, her feet were damp with the morning dew that dressed one of the sparse patches of grass. For the most part, Zariaspa was sand and dirt, much drier than their home in the forest of the mountains.

Nahri walked the length of the gate, her eyes briefly meeting one of the guards on their morning patrol of the village. He smiled warmly back at the Banu Nahida to which she offered a small nod.

Nahri had forgotten how she was received by the Daeva. They were consistently in awe of her presence and despite Nisreen’s slight disapproval at her marrying and having a child with an Afshin, the Daeva community was enthralled.

Jamshid had informed them a few days ago that word had spread around the city of their arrival and of their newborn. The community was thrilled that the rumors of their warrior of legend and the last remaining Nahid being married were true. They were even more excited to hear that they’d managed to conceive. Their whole story was much more well-received than they’d anticipated. Dara had voiced concerns that the Daeva would be upset that Nahri and himself had been offering aid to all tribes and blood types over the years, but in fact, the popularity it had gained them among all communities had struck a pride in the Daeva. They were represented by a revered and admired couple. The popularity, despite how it was gained, was much appreciated by their fellow tribesmen. It had even resulted in a handful of Daeva becoming more party-line in regards to the existence of shafit. Mind that that number was far and few, but the ambivalence that had developed between Daeva and Geziri and shafit simply because Dara and Nahri had treated them with humanity was no small feat.

Nahri had swelled with pride at the thought she and Dara’s good work had had such an effect no matter how small or superficial that it was. Yes, there were glares and whispers thrown their way by some, but they had made a difference.

In short, to Nahri and Dara's relief, their arrival in Zariaspa was much more well-received than in Daevabad.

Nahri crossed to one of the curved trees, taking a seat in the shade on the stone bench beneath it. It still hadn’t quite set in that she was a mother. Occasionally she was filled with panic that she did not know what she was doing. She’d never had a mother. No one to lead an example for her.

Part of her wanted to confess this to Dara, but he was still getting over self-doubts of his own. Eventually, she would seek his consolation, but not yet.

“I wish you could tell me if I was doing a good job,” she muttered to Tamima. “I can interpret what you need almost before you need it - a gift most mothers would kill for, mind you - but I wish I could tell what you thought of me.”

Tamima yawned and reached a tiny hand out from the confines of her blanket. Her fists clenched and unclenched. Nahri placed her finger in her daughter’s palm. At a little over a month old now she’d been trying to gain some mobility and there was nothing Nahri and Dara enjoyed more than slipping their finger into Tamima’s fists and feeling her tight grip.

 _“Are all babies so strong or has she inherited something from me already?”_ Dara had asked.

Nahri had shrugged at him. _“I don’t know. I’ve only delivered babies, I’ve never held one really.”_

Nisreen had been helpful in that respect. She’d taught Nahri the best way to hold Tamima, the best way to swaddle her and change her and burp her and feed her. Nahri was suddenly thankful they’d had to flee to Daevabad. Dara’s knowledge from growing up with many children being born around him was scanty and they both took comfort in Nisreen’s instructions.

Tamima let out a soft coo that caused Nahri to laugh quietly. She and Dara often found themselves gawking with wide smiles and quiet laughter at how bewilderingly precious Tamima could be. At the expression on Nahri’s face, Tamima’s bleary, black eyes crinkled and an attempt at a smile of her own spread on her lips. She’d been trying to smile a lot lately and it never got old.

“It is practically criminal how adorable you are, Tamima,” Nahri snickered, holding her closer.

“You two are beautiful together.”

Nahri recognized the melodious voice of Dara. She looked up to see him approaching her, her smile broadening in response. While she had not mentioned her doubts about the capability of her motherhood, Dara certainly had a way of reassuring her.

“Is that so, baba?” 

Dara beamed. The high of becoming a father had not worn off. He took a seat beside Nahri, leaning on her shoulder to steal a look at Tamima. 

“She’s got your smile. The way her nose scrunches up - do you see it?” Dara asked eagerly.

“Yes,” Nahri laughed quietly. She took her finger out of Tamima’s fist and gently ran it across her eyebrows. “Those eyes are all yours though. Especially when she furrows her brows.”

“Yes,” Dara chuckled. “I hope she gets your hair though.”

“What? No. Don’t wish that fate on your child. Do you know what a pain it is to have such wild curls?”

“I confess that I do not, but they are so beautiful.”

“She’ll appreciate having your hair more. Yours is also beautiful.”

“You embarrass me, Banu Nahida,” he said, flashing her the same smile that had made her stomach flutter for over a decade. 

“If she gets my curls then it’s your responsibility to brush and braid them, Afshin.”

He wrapped an arm around Nahri’s shoulders. “I’ll be delighted, Banu Nahida. I’m out of practice, I admit but it shouldn’t be too hard to get back in the saddle.”

“Out of practice?”

“Yes, Tamima - my sister - her hair wasn’t exactly as curly as yours but it was still a mess to contend with,” he said fondly. “Whenever I was in charge of looking after her I would have to brush her hair before bed or braid it in the morning. I heard no complaints of my handiwork.”

Nahri was certain that she would never grow used to the recollections Dara had of his past. For how haunted he always seemed by those memories, there seemed to be many good stories as well.

He exchanged his finger for Nahri's in Tamima’s hand.

Dara laughed. “Yes, with that grip she’ll make a fine archer. One to be rivaled with I’m sure.”

“Yes, another attribute she’ll inherit from you,” Nahri murmured. She looked to Dara, a wicked glint in her eyes. “One day we’ll have a son with a softer grip and his pickpocket- I mean, sleight of hand will be remarkable.”

He arched a brow. “Ah, _sleight of hand,_ you say? This is different from pickpocketing?”

“Ah… yes?”

“How disappointing,” Dara muttered. “I had quite looked forward to at least one of our children being able to pick my pockets.”

Nahri snorted. “What should they be taking? You rarely carry money-“

“I had plans to put sweets in my pockets for them to take," the Afshin said with a casual shrug.

Nahri’s jaw dropped in happy surprise, a broad smile playing her lips. Dara caught her glance, the corner of his mouth tilted up. 

“Is Darayavahoush encouraging _criminal_ activity?” 

His dark eyes drifted back to his daughter who was slowly falling back asleep. “You said it. I have a weakness for Nahids.”

Nahri gently laid Tamima in her bassinet. She was sleeping heavily, drunk on milk. Nahri and Dara had decided to take advantage of their last evening together before Kaveh returned, by splitting a bottle of date wine. 

Nahri crept away from the bassinet, joining Dara on the terrace. She dropped to the cushions with a contented sigh. 

Dara poured them both a cup of wine. “Your will power is a thing to be reckoned with, Nahri. Over nine months of no alcohol,” he said with mock reverence. He handed Nahri her drink, raising his own. “A toast to your renewed health and the finest parents in Daevastana.”

Nahri offered a wry smile, raising her cup. Taking a sip she was suddenly aware of how much she had missed drinking with Dara. Not necessarily the sensation that wine evoked, but rather the act itself. While they were almost constantly in one another’s company, there was something different about sharing wine. Perhaps nostalgia from when they’d met all those years ago. When they’d flown beneath the stars on a magic carpet.

“I realize I have said this before, but you look beautiful with her in your arms,” Dara said with a tender smile.

Nahri arched a brow at him, dark eyes dancing with amusement. “Then I apologize that I sit here before you Tamima-less now. You should avert your eyes, Dara.”

The Afshin laughed quietly and reached for his wife’s hand, raising her knuckles to his lips. “You are striking no matter what form or fashion you are in Banu Nahida, growing more so with every passing day.”

Nahri felt her cheeks flush. Would she ever grow accustomed to the bewitching effect he had on her? She had centuries to find out. Still, his words offered some comfort. Lingering doubts about her ability to be a good mother haunted her. She could feel her brows furrow. Dara, having grown familiar with everything about her scooted closer, his expression concerned.

“What is it?”

Nahri exhaled. “You say that I am beautiful with Tamima. I’m able to predict and interpret her every need before she can grow even the slightest bit uncomfortable… but what if I’m…” the words caught in Nahri’s throat. She took a quick swig of her wine supplementing her courage. “What if I’m a bad mother?”

Dara shook his head. “Of course you are not a bad mother.”

“Maybe not now… but when she’s older there are more things she’ll need from us than just burping her or feeding her or changing her,” murmured Nahri. “I have no example to draw from. I don’t know how to be there for her when she is sad. Or how to keep her from being hurt. How to discipline her without being too harsh…”

The Afshin chuckled and Nahri shot him a glare. He raised his hands politely. “You misunderstand my laughter. Nahri, the notion of you being a poor parent is absurd. You needn’t have a teacher, you have only need to be yourself,” he said, squeezing their intertwined fingers. “Now, on the matter of keeping Tamima from being sad or hurt, we are helpless there. She will be hurt, she will be sad sometimes, and all we can do is pick her back up. You have a natural talent for that. You’ve picked me up more times than I can count. You’ve picked yourself up.”

He was not wrong. Nahri had mastered getting back on her feet. She’d had no choice but to do so as she lived on the streets. 

“In regards to discipline, I do not think there is a guide. I think we have to… get to know who Tamima is. From there we can interpret what we need to do,” he shrugged. “But, you are, without a doubt, a very considerate individual when it comes to scolding. You are not too harsh, you are not too soft. Take it from someone with first-hand experience. Nahri e-Nahid is very constructive and anyone who falls subject to her discipline is all the better for it.” The crooked smile on his lips brought her comfort. He shrugged again. “Not that Tamima will ever need discipline. She will never misbehave, I am certain of it.”

Nahri snorted. “I see I am to be the tyrant here.”

Dara raised his cup to her once more. “Of the two of us, I think that is best. You were correct in assuming that I would be...” He paused, eyes glistening as he looked towards the darkened room at Tamima’s bassinet. “...I am utterly powerless to her.”

She reached up, brushing away one of his tears with her thumb. “She will be positively spoiled by her father,” Nahri sniffed. “I will miss having that hold over you, I have to admit.”

“Oh, Banu Nahida,” Dara grinned, his eyes locking with hers. “I am certain you are not insinuating that after granting me a wish beyond my wildest dreams, running away with me, _marrying_ me and carrying my child that I have lost any affection for you.”

It was not a sincere concern of Nahri’s, but Dara’s words made her throat thick. Tears stung her eyes. The dashing warrior had not lost his touch.

“My feelings towards you only grow stronger with every passing day,” he said fiercely. Dara released a breathless laugh. “And Creator, seeing you hold our daughter is perhaps the most exquisite sight I’ve ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. I thought it was not possible for you to look anymore beautiful than you did bathing in the river or leaning over me in the cave.” Nahri was mistaken if she assumed he was finished. “Or waking up to you the morning after you made me mortal or on the night we were wed or when you were glowing and round with our child.” 

The tears spilled from Nahri’s eyes. She wiped them away with the heel of her hand. When she saw his eyes were also wet with tears, it did nothing to halt her own.

“Nahri, each day that passes only leaves me more in love with you than the day before. Never doubt that,” he breathed. “And if you ever do, you need only say so and I will be only too glad to remind you.”

She attempted to gather herself, a wry smile on her lips. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to muster a speech to rival this one. I think you’ve expended your romantic resources just now.”

“I will try and summon more stores of romance for you then,” he snickered. “Whatever you wish. It’s yours.”

“Whatever I _wish,_ eh?”

“Aye, yes, you’re very funny,” the Afshin drawled with a smirk. His gaze turned wistful. “I wonder how we shall explain my past to her. Who I was. What I was.” Dara swallowed. “I pray she does not fear me.”

“I have no doubt. She will never fear you.”

Dara’s lip tugged up in a sheepish smile. “You do not think she will bat an eye at my crimes?”

“You were a different person then. You have been for quite some time.”

“And when she learns that her father was a _slave_?” he spat the word out like it was bitter on his tongue. “What shall she think of me then?”

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear but it was the truth, and if Nahri could be counted upon to give Dara one thing it was the truth. 

“She may feel sympathy for you.”

“I feared you would say that.”

“That is not necessarily a bad thing, Dara,” Nahri said sternly. “It was, and you know this, a terrible punishment you suffered. A little pity never hurt anyone.” She decided to change the subject, sensing that only time would change Dara’s mind. “I’m actually impressed that you don’t have an aversion to the word.”

He took a swig from his cup. “The word?” Dara asked, cocking a brow.

“Yes, _the_ word… the word ‘wish.’”

Dara’s lips turned down at the corners in contemplation. He raised his shoulders. “If I were to have a ‘ _word’_ it wouldn’t be ‘wish,’” he mused. He turned his eyes skyward. “No, I think if there was a ‘word’ it would be ‘slave’ or ‘master,’” 

It did not escape Nahri’s notice that he flinched. She resisted the urge to frown.

“But no, not ‘wish,’” he continued. “I suppose I have never thought about it before.”

Nahri recalled the way he had paled when Qandisha taunted him. The way he winced at the mention of when he’d been powerless to human’s desires. Sometimes she wondered what haunted him more. Being The Scourge or a slave?

Their eyes drifted to the small city before them. Glass orbs lined the wide streets, dotted with residents enjoying the cool weather provided by the setting sun. Occasionally a carriage or cart or caravan would wheel by. Children begged their parents for toys on display in one of the vendor’s stands and couples walked arm in arm window shopping. All accompanied, by somewhere in the distance, music playing. It was a drier, more intimate Daevabad nestled in a sprawling country town.

“I like it here,” Nahri muttered. 

He nodded. “Me too.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I did like it just being us in the mountains but… the crowded countryside is actually charming.”

“I agree,” he said. A pensive smile broke on his face. “I… like the idea of Tamima having other children to play with someday.”

Nahri hadn’t considered if Tamima would be lonely in their home in the forest mountains. She imagined they would visit Safater often so she could play with the children of the village, but to have such a resource available by stepping out the front door rather than riding over an hour on horseback sounded much better. Nahri drew her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. She imagined Tamima a little older, admiring the toys in the town square with other children. She smiled at the thought.

“Perhaps tomorrow when Kaveh returns we consider… making a home here?” Dara said hesitantly. “At least until it’s safe for us to be secluded again, or even in that part of Daevastana. We needn’t-“

“I would like that.”

Dara’s eyebrows raised. “You would?”

“Mmhm. I could practice here. Maybe have a real infirmary.” The thought of her own establishment where she treated patients on a daily basis made Nahri giddy. She shook herself from the daydream and turned to Dara. “But what would you do? I doubt you’d want to join the Daeva Brigade…”

“ _Bah,_ I’ve had enough of being a man in uniform. I am not keen to fall in line with someone’s orders again. I am better off protecting people on my own terms,” Dara remarked. He drained the rest of his wine and jerked his head towards their daughter’s bassinet. “I’d much rather stay with Tamima”

Surprised, Nahri smiled at Dara. 

He rolled his eyes at her playfully. “You are thinking that this is the mother’s role, are you not?”

“No, I’m just pleasantly surprised at your enthusiasm towards fatherhood.”

“Well, I am not certain as to why you are surprised. I was very open about my excitement,” Dara murmured. His forehead creased. “Are you opposed to me assuming the position of caring for Tamima.”

“Not in the slightest,” Nahri beamed.

She did not overlook happiness dancing in Dara’s eyes. 

“I cannot wait for the day she can hold a bow.”

“That will be a dangerous day.”

The Afshin let out a drowsy laugh. “Well, then it is fortunate she is a Nahid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for my dear friend and a wonderful mom Kassie, and any mothers who suffer from postpartum. I hope you all have a partner/person to reassure you of how loved and wonderful you are. You are still you, you are strong and you are doing a great job.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Dara’s perspective: Nahri, Dara and Tamima receive visitors in the night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There should be about five more chapters after this one! - I apologize if this one is a bit dialogue heavy.

It had been eighteen months since Nahri and Dara had made their home in Zariaspa. The town was all too happy to receive the three new additions and to express their enthusiasm the city had presented the family with a vacant two-story building wedged on the main street where they could live and Nahri could practice.

The Banu Nahida had wasted no time in finding a local apothecary owner named Jawana to partner with. She had been very receptive to providing Nahri with whatever medicines she required, citing that it was the Banu Nahida who had inspired her to stock her shelves with better known human herbs and remedies. An act that apparently had gained Jawana some biting comments from other Zariaspan residents. Some of which were shortly righted once the Daeva people saw the Banu Nahida endorse the young apothecary owner.

But there were still some citizens that were wary of Nahri and her Afshin. Citizens who said that the two were an abomination to their faith. That they were dancing with the devil. That was where Dara came in.

He’d taken to the role of “house husband” well, _but_ the role of royal protector was lingering just below the surface of the charming former warrior. He could still send an arrow through your lungs faster than you could blink. His precision was just as deadly as it had been fourteen hundred years ago.

The only difference now was that he could kill you _while_ holding his daughter - and that he had more to lose - which only made him fiercer.

In the dead of night, a knock had sounded at their door downstairs. Not unfamiliar. Nahri was the most central healer and should someone have a late-night emergency their house was the one people went to. Truthfully, Nahri loved it and Dara could see that. A crisis only she could handle.

He went downstairs and groggily ushered in a boy having severe stomach pains, escorting him and his mother to one of the several beds in the back while upstairs Nahri tied back her hair and dressed in her healer’s uniform.

“Alright, habibti,” Dara sighed, reentering the apartment up the stairs that served as their home. He crossed to Nahri placing a sleepy kiss on her forehead. “He’s all yours. Call upon me if you need anything.”

“Of course,” nodded Nahri, standing on her tiptoes to press her lips to his cheek. Her dark eyes flickered over his shoulder. A sly smile spread on her face. “But it appears you have a patient of your own.”

Dara followed her gaze expectantly to see Tamima standing, bleary-eyed in the doorway between their bedroom and her’s.

The corner of his lip tilted up at the sight. Truthfully, he enjoyed it when Tamima’s sleep was also disturbed by Nahri’s patients. It was always difficult for him to go back to bed and her company was welcome. Nahri crossed to her, kneeling.

“I’m sorry they woke you,” she frowned, brushing one of the wild curls behind Tamima’s ear. 

Just a few months after Tamima was born, dark curls sprouted plentifully from her head. Dara had been eager to watch his daughter slowly grow into the spitting image of Nahri, but as time passed her eyes, her mouth, the plains of her face had been every bit him. Even her button nose and dark, wide eyes resembled the sharp features of an Afshin. Nahri and Dara waited for the day she started speaking in full sentences. Whose barbed tongue would she have inherited?

“Will you keep baba company while I go make someone feel better?” 

Tamima nodded in response then toddled over to Dara, who scooped her up.

Nahri glanced at the two of them with an appreciative smile before heading out of the bedroom and downstairs.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” he asked, hiking her further up on his hip.

She shook her head.

“Are you hungry?”

“Sleep.”

“This is good news,” Dara chuckled. “Why don’t we wait for amma in bed?”

Tamima nodded again. Dara carried her over to him and Nahri’s bed, setting her down by his own pillow. She nestled back into it allowing Dara to clamber in next to her. 

He didn’t think he would ever grow used to this life. Having a home, a wife, and a daughter. This was a life meant for a normal man. One not guilty of the crimes he had committed. A man who-

Dara stopped himself. Nahri was right. He was no longer that man and to focus on the past would not help make amends. Instead, he turned his attention to Tamima. She stared ahead blankly, chewing on her thumb. For someone so small with so little on her shoulders, her expression was certainly concerned.

“I thought you were sleepy,” he said tilting her chin to look at him with his knuckle.

She digested his words, brows furrowing. “No.”

“No? You are no longer sleepy?”

“No.”

Downstairs the boy Nahri was treating let out a howl making Dara wince. He looked at Tamima whose jaw had dropped, her expression bewildered. Dara snickered softly and pulled her closer to him. There was nothing Tamima could do that would not delight him. 

“H-hurt?” she stammered.

“Yes, but your mother will make him feel better. Not to worry. She’s very gifted that way,” he said brushing his fingers through her short curls. “One day you will be too.”

Her attention drifted to her tiny fingers. “Me?” 

“Yes,” he said, poking her small nose. “But right now we need to make sure we both rest. How do we get you sleepy again? A song?”

“No.”

“A story then?”

“No,” Tamima sighed. “Head.”

Dara’s lip hitched up higher. She was her mother’s daughter. She _did_ love to be pampered. Before he could decline her request Tamima climbed onto Dara’s legs and leaned back against his chest. He reached up a hand and let his fingers gently rake through her curls. She let out a quiet murmur of content.

“When my sister was your age, this would make her fall asleep very quickly,” Dara said quietly. “She was also quite talkative…”

Given Tamima’s talk was nonsensical gibberish she still took to babbling a lot in Dara’s presence. All the while he would talk with her as though she were making great points. It was a great source of amusement for Nahri.

Dara carefully peeked his head forward to see if Tamima had fallen asleep yet. To his surprise, she was still awake. She met his eyes and smiled broadly, a giggle escaping her lips. Dara snorted and returned to leaning back against his pillows.

“You are not tired in the slightest, eh?” 

“No!”

“Neither am I,” he sighed. “I know you do not wish to visit the stables or go for a walk or hear a story or lullaby. What do you want?”

“Talk.”

“You want me to talk?” he mused. “Let’s see… let me tell you more about my sister, shall I?”

“Mmm… yes,” Tamima finally said.

“Just like with you, I did whatever my sister wanted. I was powerless to her. Whatever she asked for, I gave her,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I even let her hold my bow a few times. I tried to teach her how to use one too.”

“Bow?”

“Yes, like baba’s shiny one.”

She shifted in his lap and jammed her tiny finger into her chest. 

Dara sensed her meaning. “Not yet. But when you are older, of course.”

Dara pictured her a few years from now. In his mind she’d grown by a few inches, her hair was longer and tied back. She could hold a bow steady with him at her side, teaching her how to shoot properly. A second child showed up. They had no face or name, but they were there. 

“Tamima, what would you think about being an older sister?” Dara asked quietly. “Of your mother having another baby?”

Tamima scrunched up her nose, seemingly thinking very hard. Dara was positively wrapped around her finger. Especially in these moments they had together.

“Yes,” she finally said with a resolute nod.

“Yes, you would like to be a sister?” 

“Yes.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and ruffled her curls. “Let’s see if we can convince your amma then.”

“Convince amma of what?”

Dara and Tamima looked to the bedroom doorway to see Nahri smiling suspiciously at them both.

He straightened up and flashed his wife a rakish grin. “Tamima and I have been talking and she has confided in me she would like to be an older sister.”

Nahri’s gaze flickered to Tamima who bounced up in Dara’s lap briefly.

“Yah,” she squealed.

Nahri crossed to the bed, sitting beside the two of them. “I see my Afshin has done nothing in the way of getting his daughter back to bed.”

Dara arched a brow. “You ordered me to do no such thing and have also dodged the question.”

“You didn’t ask a question. You made a _suggestion_ ,” Nahri said pointedly. She cupped Tamima’s chin in her hand. “Is that what you want, my love? Or is that what baba wants?”

“Mmm… me!”

“I see,” Nahri said, turning to Dara. “And this is not something baba told you to want?”

“My thief, how dare you. This was entirely Tamima’s idea.”

“No,” Tamima smiled.

Dara smirked at his daughter. “Traitor.”

She screeched happily and nestled further into his chest. Nahri smiled fondly, taking in the picture. Dara, sensing her softening, offered her that same smile he knew made her heart flip. Nahri scoffed in response, but he could tell it had worked. She leaned back beside him, propping her head up with her palm. Looking at her now, he could see that shafit girl from the cave. She appeared to him often and it never failed to make him melt. 

“You want another, you selfish man?”

“Am I selfish? Last I checked you asked for a brood. I’m only fulfilling one final wish for you,” he said with a wink. 

Nahri’s cheeks flushed. “Let me think about it, Afshin. I don’t know how eager I am to experience that process again so soon.”

The corner of his lip hitched up higher and he cupped her cheek. “Of course, Banu Nahida. Whatever you want.”

The next night was not spent better. Downstairs came a clatter in the middle of the night suggesting someone had broken in.

It was highly likely this was harmless. A local thief picking the lock to steal Nahri’s more rare medical supplies. A patient somehow squeezing in the window, desperate for help. All the same, Nahri and Dara ensured that their upstairs door was secure and that a powerful curse was placed on their lock. Dara had his bow drawn and Nahri braced the entrance to Tamima’s room, returning to stand by her husband’s side, a bag of throwing knives around her wrist.

He pressed his ear to the door, straining his ears for any sound of the intruder’s below. 

Dara didn’t hear any signs of them stealing anything. No poking around. Just the hushed murmur of two men speaking.

“There’s nothing disruptive outside,” Nahri muttered. “No signs of disturbance.”

Dara nodded and waved a hand, their door opened noiselessly and the two stepped through the protective veil onto the narrow staircase. Both were careful to skip the creaky step. 

_“Well, do we just wait for them to wake up?”_

_“I haven’t thought that far ahead.”_

_“What kind of personal guard are you?”_

_“Oh, well my_ sincerest _apologies, my emir…”_

Dara looked over his shoulder at Nahri whose brows were raised. 

Dara snapped his fingers lighting the lanterns in the back infirmary. Rounding the corner he saw Jamshid and Muntadhir slouched on one of the cots. The pair looked up at Nahri and Dara, visibly exhausted.

Though emir was offering a vague attempt at his usual charming smile. “Ah, the Banu Nahida and my ancestral enemy.”

“Afshin, Banu Nahida, I apologize,” Jamshid said, raising his palms in surrender. “We… I know we likely alarmed you.”

Dara lowered his bow and exhaled. “Yes, that is correct, Pramukh.”

“Again, apologies…”

Nahri shouldered past Dara and walked over to Jamshid, looking him up and down as she knelt before them. “Are you injured?” Her eyes shifted to Muntadhir. “Either of you?”

Jamshid shook his head. “No, only tired. Looking for a place to rest for the night.”

“Last I checked the Pramukh estate had five bedrooms,” Dara murmured walking to the table where Nahri placed her pitchers of water for patients. He poured two glasses. “So why choose the local healer's infirmary?”

Jamshid and Muntadhir exchanged glances as the Afshin handed them their drinks. Dara noted the crease between Jamshid’s brows. He was concerned. More worrisome was Muntadhir. The carefree emir was a shell of his normal self. Obviously wearing a mask of calm for the sake of his companion. The explanation was obvious to Dara and he blamed his drowsiness for not making him aware sooner. He looked to Nahri who grimaced.

“You’ve run away then. Kaveh does not know.”

Jamshid looked as though he were about to clarify but Muntadhir placed a hand on his knee, silencing him.

“Yes, we have and no he does not,” Muntadhir said plainly. 

Dara took a seat on the cot across from the two men and leaned his elbows on his knees. Nahri sat beside him. There was no need to communicate. Both had already made up their minds.

“We will aid you how we can,” Dara said plainly. “But you’ll need to give us all of the details.”

“And spare nothing,” cut in Nahri severely. “We can’t help if we don’t know everything.”

Dara nodded. If the two had learned anything from their time in the mountains it was that inhibitions and distrust did no good. If someone needed help, even the smallest detail could make all the difference.

Muntadhir explained that the two had escaped Daevabad, sneaking over the palace walls and through the jungle to the veil. They’d planned to continue straight on into the mountains but when night had started to fall they both became too tired to continue. Afraid of getting lost in the desert, they took a detour to the closest city - Zariaspa. 

“We needed somewhere to hide and catch our breath. The Grand Wazir’s home was not an option, but Jamshid assured me that you two would be willing to help,” Muntadhir exhaled. “So? Was he wrong? He is far too attractive to also be perceptive…”

“No, he is right… but where do you plan to go? It is hard to imagine a place where you would not be recognized,” Dara questioned.

“Is your home still available in the mountains?” Muntadhir asked, raising an eyebrow.

Nahri looked at Dara who nodded. He turned back to the two men who stared at them hopefully.

“We cannot know for certain… but if it is, it is yours for as long as you require.”

“Darayavahoush, as soon as I’ve grown a beard to conceal my identity…”

“...I’ve told you that’s a poor plan, emir…”

“ _Fine_ , as soon as _we’ve both_ grown beards to conceal our identities we would leave.”

Dara waved an errant hand at the two. “How long till we can expect the entire Royal Guard on our doorstep?”

Jamshid’s expression was leery. “We spread the word that we were heading to Khanzada’s one night ago then headed off. From previous experience, I believe that no one was likely suspicious of our whereabouts till midday when Muntadhir hadn’t stumbled out of his quarters moaning. I think we have about a twelve-hour head start on them…”

Twelve hours was barely enough time. Dara had outrun many things and he knew that these two were barely in a good spot. Their next moves would have to be smart and carefully executed. It is a good thing they’d come to him and Nahri.

As tired as Dara was, there was something exciting about helping the two escape Ghassan’s reach. Treason was starting to become a hobby. Then there was the promise of helping Jamshid find some happiness. Truthfully, Dara couldn’t be bothered with Muntadhir. The emir was an amusing drinking partner and had really done nothing to spite the Afshin, but Dara did feel cautious accepting the socialite at face value.

Dara steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “You both came here to rest, so take some time to sleep. I’ll wake you shortly.” He looked at Nahri who was eyeing him skeptically then back to the worn-looking couple. “I’m going to convene with Nahri about what we do next.”

“How long till you wake us?” Jamshid called.

Dark snorted as he and Nahri continued up the stairs to their apartment. “It is better that you are unaware of how little you’ll be sleeping, Pramukh. For our delicate emir’s sake especially.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just ask littlethiefs, weethreequarter or astarisms, I'm obsessed with domestic Dara


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Jamshid's P.O.V. - Jamshid and Muntadhir continue their escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I know it's been a while but.... I finished the story! I just gotta edit it all up now and then I'll get to publishing the rest of this.

Jamshid woke to the scent of a very strong tea tickling his mustache, hot steam licking at the tip of his nose. He blinked awake to see a small child holding a cup of tea before him, her short curly hair in all directions. 

“Is... tea,” she said with a great effort to pronounce the words clearly. 

Jamshid was suddenly very awake. This must be Tamima. He hadn’t seen her since he’d left them at his family’s estate almost two years ago. The Daeva in him was in awe of being in the presence of the newest Nahid - the continuation of his people’s most highly praised lineage. A new healer that would likely make history. She was not only a Nahid though, she was also Afshin. Not just any Afshin, the daughter of the man he had modeled his life after, the reason he had picked up a bow as a boy in the backyard of the estate just down the street.

Then there was the part of him that was the companion of Nahri and Dara. It brought him sincere happiness to meet their child properly. 

Jamshid accepted the cup of tea, sitting up straight in his cot. “You are Tamima?”

She considered the question, then nodded pointing a tiny finger at her chest. 

“I’m Jamshid.”

Tamima appeared as though she were about to attempt to say the name herself, but stopped. She gave him another nod and disappeared into the next room with hurried footsteps.

Jamshid took a sip of the tea, noticing that the small infirmary was still dark. He was uncertain as to how long he’d been asleep but not much time could've passed. He looked at Munthadir, still resting, his jaw slack. The corner of Jamshid’s lip tilted up at the sight of the exhausted emir, passed out on a small cot. Perhaps the most uncomfortable he had ever been in his royal life aside from camping with the Afshin all those years ago. 

What a mess they were in now. A splendid, disastrous mess. _“A fantastic descent”_ as Munthadir had remarked when they were halfway to Zariaspa.

Jamshid had to admit he was impressed with Munthadir’s attitude throughout their journey. He didn’t care that they had to share a horse, he’d been patient, hadn’t complained, and kept his spirits high - even when Jamshid’s back had started sweating against his chest. 

The slow pattering of tiny feet was accompanied by Tamima entering the infirmary carrying a second cup of tea. This time she walked to Muntadhir. She held the cup to his nose, eyes narrowed waiting for him to wake up. Jamshid could see much of the Afshin in her features here. 

“He is a heavy sleeper,” Jamshid said softly. “You may need to give him a tap.”

Tamima nodded resolutely and before Jamshid could correct her, smacked her small palm to Munthadir’s face. Jamshid cringed and the emir opened his eyes, brows furrowed in confusion. Tamima, still unaware that she had just slapped the next in line for Daevabad’s throne, extended the cup to him.

Muntadhir accepted. “You are indeed the daughter of Nahri and the Afshin,” he said groggily. 

She pointed to herself. "Tamima." 

“Yes, I assumed,” smirked Muntadhir. He looked to Jamshid with an arched brow. “Some guard you are. You let my ancestral enemy attack me in my sleep.”

“Creator preserve you if a child who can’t yet string together a sentence is a threat to you,” he snorted.

“She is twice as dangerous as the emir,” said Dara entering and taking a seat on the cot across from Jamshid. “Her blood could kill an ifrit.”

Tamima tottered over to him and stretched her arms up in a plea to be held. The Afshin lifted her with ease, settling her onto his lap.

“Apologies if you were rudely awakened. She could not sleep and has an affection for  _ helping  _ our patients,” Dara muttered with a grin. 

Jamshid watched the two wistfully, wondering if he and Muntadhir would ever have something like this. Even now, free of Ghassan, it was unlikely any village would allow two men to adopt children.  This was just one of the many concerns surfacing since they’d left Daevabad. 

He’d kept quiet knowing that now was not the time to be inventing problems, but there was a nagging fear in him that some of these worries were warranted. 

Sure, Muntadhir had withdrawn a plentiful amount of coin before they’d left, but what about when that ran out? What would they do for money?

And what if Muntadhir became wounded or ill? Would they have to travel all the way to Zariaspa to be healed by someone they trusted?

What if Muntadhir found that life outside of Daevabad was dull? What if he discovered that a kindhearted, country boy who was good with a bow was not enough for him? 

The door to the apothecary opened and shut causing Jamshid and Muntadhir to jump. 

“Nahri?” Dara called over his shoulder.

“Keep your voice down,” she hissed joining them. At the sight of her daughter, Nahri rearranged her disgruntled expression and smiled brightly, then sat next to Dara. She pressed a delicate finger to Tamima’s nose. “Be more like this one. She’s being perfectly conspiratorial.”

“Indeed she is,” Dara observed.

Jamshid waited with bated breath. A sideways glance at the emir - who was still staring thoughtfully at his now half-empty teacup - told Jamshid he was likely the only one here having an appropriate reaction to the situation at hand.

He and Muntadhir had the royal guard chasing them and barely any head start. Time was of the essence-

“Were your efforts… _fruitful_?” Dara asked Nahri in a quiet voice. 

Nahri continued to softly pluck at Tamima’s curls. “You know Rami?”

“Rami? The winemaker who called you a-“

“It doesn’t matter what he called me because tomorrow when he wakes he has one less horse,” Nahri said with a sweet smile. Dara opened his mouth, brows furrowed but Nahri cut him off. “And there is not a trace that a dirt blood whore is responsible. I have not lost my touch, Afshin.”

A grin spread on Dara’s lips that Jamshid saw made Nahri blush - albeit seemingly unwillingly.

“You stole a horse for us?” Muntadhir chimed in.

Jamshid glanced over his shoulder at the emir, still hunched over his steaming cup of tea. “I see that you’re finally awakening…”

“Yes, the tea _was_ over-steeped so I have only just consumed-“

“The tea was steeped  _ fine _ ,” Dara said flippantly. 

Jamshid caught Muntadhir grinning into his cup. He tried not to smile himself. The lightheartedness that the emir had been maintaining was greatly appreciated. Especially as Jamshid had quite felt like he had let Muntadhir down. He had been winging every step of their journey since they escaped Daevabad’s walls and not once had the prince protested.

“Can you both understand maps?” Dara asked.

Jamshid nodded “Yes.”

“...do I look like a cartographer?” Muntadhir laughed. 

The Afshin exhaled loudly. “Jamshid, come with me and I’ll show you where you’re going,” he said placing Tamima on Nahri’s lap and standing. Dara smirked at Muntadhir. “Nahri, do you mind staying here with the children?”

“Not at all.”

“Ah,” Muntadhir chuckled. “He has jokes now…”

Rolling his eyes, Dara gestured for Jamshid to follow him out of the infirmary. The two walked down the long hallway at the back of the infirmary to a door at the very end. Inside there were many bookshelves stocked with various medical texts and scrolls. A very scratched table sat in the middle of the room, on it a large map. Dara leaned over the table and picked up a quill. He pointed to the spot that Jamshid recognized as Zariaspa.

It was difficult for him to see before him his friend, Dara, and not the famous General Afshin.

“You’ll go south from here through these woods,” Dara said, drawing a line. “Keep going past Safater and further into a human city here.” 

Jamshid peered at the city he circled trying to make out the name. “Tehran?”

Dara nodded. “Yes, it’s a human city so there is little risk of the Royal Guard apprehending you, and the Daeva Brigade wouldn’t dare step foot near it.”

A human city? 

Dara continued. “Find a Daeva woman named Nibet and her shafit husband Viren. Tell them that the Afshin and Banu Nahida sent you and that you’re seeking sanctuary for a few weeks.”

Staying with a Daeva woman and her runaway shafit husband? 

“Aye…” 

Jamshid looked up to see Dara arching a brow at him challengingly.

“You do not belong to Ghassan or Daevabad any longer. Staying with a free shafit should not cause any moral qualms for you, understood?”

“Of course not, but… if they should be discovered by a bounty hunter?”

Dara let out a tired laugh. “I would like to see someone try to force Nibet to do something against her will. No, they have been in hiding for probably two decades. You will be safe there, Pramukh.”

Shacking up in a human city wasn’t exactly the romantic escape Jamshid had wanted to give Muntadhir but it was better than being captured and dragged back to Daevabad. They could make this work. Jamshid would supply him with as much grape wine as he needed to get through this. He would listen to him recite poetry for hours. Whatever Muntadhir required from Jamshid he deserved. To think that the emir had given up his lavish palace life to run away with _him_. 

“Pramukh, this is very important,” Dara said gravely. “Leave Tehran after a few weeks and head to Safater. Go straight to the stables and find a young man named Rahim. He will likely not recognize the emir, but if he does, you can trust him. Tell him that you were sent by Nahri and Dara and that you are to keep guard of their old home.”

Jamshid nodded in response. He tried to bring forth the soldier in him. The one who took orders and looked danger in the face with a cheerful smile. Not this terrified partner in a paramour that was disastrously close to losing everything he held dear. 

“Jamshid, you’ll need to be very careful with your timing and when you arrive at our home you should consistently put up security curses, alarm spells, anything to keep you alert of intruders. If you are caught-” the Afshin cleared his throat. “If you are caught, they won’t bother with posting you elsewhere or seeing that the emir gets back in his wife’s good graces. They will execute the both of you. You know this?”

Did he know this? Of course, he knew it. It had been looming over him ever since Muntadhir had proposed such a plan. It was at the edge of his every thought. Each brief moment of levity he experienced so far had been tainted with the fear of death. 

Jamshid didn’t recall answering, but he must have because the Afshin continued.

“I will give you some advice, Pramukh, please take it very seriously.”

The dark eyes of his childhood hero were severe. Jamshid instinctively leaned closer over the table.

“Do not leave his side and he does not leave yours. Any challenge, any danger, you must both face together. No one should play the part of the hero.”

The command would sound sensible to anyone who was  _ not _ the warrior in a relationship. Jamshid was certain that if Muntadhir were here receiving this speech from Dara, he would put aside any playful jabs to agree wholeheartedly. But how could Jamshid expect Muntadhir to defend himself against Geziri warriors? Or bandits? Or a rukh? The emir was fine with a bow - but he'd never actually seen danger before. 

Dara walked around the table to Jamshid’s side and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. “Trust me. I know it seems unlikely, but it is together or not at all, Pramukh. I know this to be true.”

Jamshid released a slow, shuddering breath. He would not question the Afshin. If Darayavahoush couldn’t be counted upon to live up to his fearsome legends, he could certainly be counted upon for his cleverness. He’d outwitted royals, ifrit, soldiers, guards, and even Ghassan. 

Jamshid tried not to imagine Muntadhir having to fight, or worse, having to fight and  _ losing _ . It would be difficult to go against his instincts as a royal protector to the emir. To take his hand and run into danger instead of pushing him out of harm’s way. 

_ If anything happens to him... _

As though Dara could read his thoughts, “Jamshid, you will both be fine.”

Jamshid felt tears sting his eyes. He quickly blinked them back and forced himself to meet his friend’s gaze.

“Yes, Afshin,” he said adamantly. “Thank you.”

“But of course,” Dara shrugged, a smug grin breaking out on his face. “I must say that I am very impressed. I escaped Daevabad with the last Nahid, but you did so with the next in line for the throne. That is no easy feat.”

The knot in Jamshid’s chest unraveled and he let out a sigh. “You’ve no idea.”

“You probably had to lie… _a lot_. I was not aware that dishonesty was a trait you possessed.”

Jamshid felt his cheeks flush. “We all take on surprising traits for the people we love, Afshin.”

Dara’s smile tipped higher.

“Speaking of which, how is fatherhood?”

A low rumble of laughter sounded in Dara’s chest and his eyes turned to the door, flickering with admiration. He wondered again if he or Muntadhir would ever wear a similar expression.

“Nahri tends to her patients and I keep Tamima out of her way. It is my favorite arrangement to date… only to be rivaled by the day Tamima can finally handle a bow.” 

“Another Daeva warrior with a bow, Afshin?” Jamshid smiled. “There are rules…”

Dara nodded sagely. “You are right to already be intimidated by her.” 

Eventually, the Afshin rolled up the map and handed it to Jamshid. It was time that he and Muntadhir set off for Tehran. Dawn was approaching quickly.

When they re-entered the infirmary Nahri was snoring on one of the empty cots. Muntadhir was cross-legged on his cot across from Tamima. He held both of his fists out before her. 

“Make up your mind, Tamima…” he said tauntingly.

Tamima smacked the top of his left fist which he opened to reveal a small stone. Tamima squealed with delight at the anguish on Muntadhir’s face.

“How do you keep winning at this? You’ve made me look like a fool.”

“That is not difficult from what I remember of our ifrit hunting, emir,” Dara said, crouching before Tamima.

Jamshid lingered in the doorway taking in the sight of the man that he loved, still so happy, still so boisterous after everything they’d been through. Would they be able to lead a life like Nahri and Dara? Happy? Whole? Could he give that to Muntadhir? He would have to try. If Dara could do it for Nahri then surely Jamshid could do the same for his emir.

“Your daughter may resemble you, Afshin, but the cleverness she gets from your wife. This is something we all know,” Muntadhir countered, ruffling Tamima’s curls. He looked to Jamshid with a wan smile. “Don’t tell me how far we are going. Just tell me how long till I can sleep again.”

Jamshid swallowed the lump in his throat and allowed himself to smile back. “I think you are better off not knowing the answer to that question.”

Muntadhir only shrugged, his expression unchanging. “That is fine. Afshin, your wife said that we were to take what grape wine you could spare. Do not burden her and wake her to confirm, simply hand over the stores and we will be on our way.”

“I’ll need to put this one in bed, but I’m certain I can fulfill this  _ supposed _ promise from my wife.” Dara hoisted Tamima onto his hip, calling over his shoulder as he exited the infirmary, “And you needn’t lie about such a gift, emir. It is an Afshin custom to give wine to a newly betrothed couple.”

Jamshid felt his cheeks blaze with heat. He looked at Muntadhir who was smiling with amusement.

“Well, I hadn’t officially proposed, Pramukh, but I suppose after the Afshin hands me the wine it is official. We are betrothed,” the emir said, standing from the cot and joining him in the doorway. “It is too bad that no temple will marry us. Likely concerned that our love would be the envy of all the Daeva.”

Flustered by Muntadhir’s forwardness, as usual, Jamshid stumbled for words. “Well, I… I studied in the - um - the priesthood if you recall. I remember some… some Daeva vows. If you are so inclined-”

“Ah, you would be the high priest at your own wedding for me, Pramukh?” Muntadhir grinned. 

Jamshid shook his head in mock disapproval. “Aye, for my emir, I just might.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Motherf**ckin Jamshid and Muntadhir, man. They deserve all the things  
> Also, the line "Together or not at all" is a quote from Doctor Who - I will take that quote to my grave.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Dara's perspective - The past always catches up with them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get yourself a snack cause this is a long boy

The Royal Guard had stopped by with Kaveh in tow the day following Jamshid and Muntadhir’s departure to ask Nahri and Dara if they had encountered the two.

To buy the star crossed pair sometime Nahri had lied saying that they had absconded to Qart Sahar in hopes of gaining passage on a Sahrayn ship. 

_ “We told them it was dangerous. That any sand ship that would have them would likely be pirates, but they didn’t care. They said it didn’t matter if it made them harder to find…”  _ Nahri had said with a convincingly grim expression. 

Dara had been impressed with Nahri’s act. When she had told him to keep his mouth closed until spoken to and that she would handle all the talking, he had been concerned she may have lost her touch for conning. How wrong he had found himself when Kaveh cursed in defeat and shook their hands thanking them for their help. The con artist from Cairo was still very much alive as he should’ve learned by now.

Six months later, no word had been passed of Jamshid and Muntadhir. Nahri had asked if they should go to Tehran to see Nibet and ask her of their whereabouts - if they had passed through as planned. Perhaps even check their old home to see if the two had set up camp. Dara had told her that no news was good news and any attempt to trace Jamshid and Muntadhir’s steps would be a risk to them being discovered.

“Dara,” Nahri said. She was carefully adding a pinch of some herb to a boiling pot she was tending. “What do you think they’re up to?”

Dara sat on the floor across from Tamima who was quite enamored with kneading the spare bit of dough left over from breakfast. “I imagine Jamshid is making good use of our old shooting range,” the Afshin shrugged. “And Muntadhir has likely attempted to turn our garden into a vineyard for himself.”

Nahri’s brows knitted together and Dara noticed that she did not laugh. In fact, her expression seemed to become more concerned. 

He stood from his seat on the floor, leaving Tamima to squish her fingers in the dough in peace and sat by Nahri on her bench. She sighed and turned her head from the boiling pot to look at him. It was not much, but he offered her a comforting smile.

“They are fine,” he said softly. 

She nodded, chewing her cheek.

“Nahri, I beg that you simply enjoy your life as of now and not invent problems to concern yourself with. Enjoy that you are a renowned healer who has brought unity to-“

“... _ Mild  _ unity…”

“...her people. You have the practice you wanted, the independence you dreamed of, and,” he said, taking her hand and bringing her knuckles to his lips, “you have my complete adoration.”

The lines on her face smoothed. She pulled her hand from his with a smirk, but there was still a whisp of worry beneath her smile.

“I should hope so, my Afshin.”

A knock came from the door. 

“Already today?” Dara grimaced.

“I am their healer,” Nahri shrugged. “And as you said, they  _ are _ my people.”

Dara gripped her fingers before she could stand, a sly smile on his lips.

“Don’t answer. Let them think we’re still sleeping. They’ll go away,” he whispered.

Nahri arched a brow. “Are you telling your Nahid to neglect those in need of her aid?”

“I am  _ asking  _ my Nahid to neglect whatever hungover teenager is banging upon her door to take an extra hour before she begins a long work day,” he corrected. 

Another knock. Nahri pursed her lips.

Dara leaned in, lips brushing her ear. “They still believe we’re asleep. Let’s-“

Before Dara could continue Tamima was up on her feet and walking unsteadily towards the door.

“Hello!” she cried out.

Dara hung his head. “What did I expect,” he muttered. “She  _ is  _ your daughter.”

Nahri smiled at the forlorn Afshin, cupping his face and placing a kiss on his cheek before standing to join Tamima at the door. “Why don’t you go see if Hashem has any new antiquities in today?”

“So he can marvel that I’m fourteen hundred years old?” Dara drawled.

Nahri rolled her eyes and scooped up Tamima, settling her on her hip. “Oh, you love it.”

Nahri opened the door and Dara’s heart sped up at the identity of their visitor.

Kaveh.

He looked rather weary. Older than when they’d last seen him. Dara swallowed the lump in his throat. Nahri had always been a talented liar but he wasn’t so gifted. He reminded himself that there was nothing to lie about necessarily now and if there was, Nahri could do the talking.

“Grand Wazir,” Nahri said pleasantly. “Did you want to come inside? Dara was about to start making tea.”

Dara almost snorted at how warm her tone was. Kaveh practically melted. 

“Good morning and no, thank you,” Kaveh replied. 

Dara joined Nahri, doing his best to mask the fact that he was still assessing the Grand Wazir’s state. Something was wrong. Perhaps the years had made Dara paranoid, but the grief reading off of Kaveh seemed more painful than the concern of a man unaware of the whereabouts of his son and his lover. 

“I was passing by and wanted to ask you all over to my estate for dinner this evening,” Kaveh said with a tired smile. “I just arrived last night and will be leaving first thing tomorrow on assignment. It’s my first time back actually since…”

The Grand Wazir trailed off but Dara and Nahri didn’t need him to finish. He was alone now. For as straight-laced as Kaveh seemed to be, Dara knew the man would’ve preferred Jamshid banished and disgraced and under his roof over being completely lost to him.

“Nahri sometimes has patients later into the evening, but Tamima and I will be in attendance, Kaveh. Thank you.”

Kaveh gave a weak nod but before he could continue Nahri cut him off.

“I’ll do my best to join you all, Kaveh. If I’m unable to come, Dara should bring you back here for some evening wine,” she said, this time the warmth in her smile a bit more genuine.

Still, Dara could tell by the furrow in her brow that something bothered her.

“I would be honored, Banu Nahida,” Kaveh said, pressing his palms together and offering the two a brief bow. “I’ll see you three this evening.”

As soon as Dara shut the door he turned to Nahri. 

She set Tamima down on the floor. “Put one of the blankets down in the garden and we’ll have baba make some more roht, ya?”

Tamima clapped her hands excitedly and dashed out of the infirmary. 

Dara rubbed the back of his neck. “I am to make more roht, now? Have you forgotten that I am no longer in possession of slave magic and must actually prepare this food?”

Nahri half-smiled. “Oh yes, Creator forbid you need to use  _ regular  _ magic to cook. In all your centuries this must be the biggest injustice…”

“Alright…”

“Truly, I cannot name a worse fate than making breakfast for your wife and daughter. Will the hardships ever cease for you?”

Dara rolled his eyes at her dramatic expression and started for the stairs leading up from the infirmary to their apartment. Nahri stopped him, planting her hands on his chest and looking him gravely in the eye.

“You are, without question, the noblest of warriors for making two breakfast rohts in one morning.”

Dara tucked one of Nahri’s escaped curls back into her chador with a wry smile. “Is this to be my punishment for volunteering us for dinner at the Grand Wazir’s? Neverending teasing from you, little thief?”

She pursed her lips. “I’ve got a bad feeling about it, Dara. I feel like… I don’t know... like Kaveh will say he knows that we helped them or that we know where they are.”

Dara shook his head. “No, the Grand Wazir would not show up and ask us to dinner if he was aware we committed treason. He would have arrived with the entire guard. They wouldn’t take the chance of giving us time to escape if there was danger.”

“Is this your attempt to comfort me?” Nahri asked, arching a brow.

Dara placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “Go and wait in the garden with Tamima. I’ll make short work of the roht and join you.”

Dara made his way up to the apartment and set to work in the kitchen. Nahri’s words had unsettled him - a small knot forming in his stomach. It was unlikely an ambush awaited them at the Pramukh estate - he knew that. He had learned many times that you did not give an enemy an escape window if you wanted them dead.

Another lesson Dara had learned many times - one that kept the knot of worry firmly coiled in his stomach - was that Nahri was usually right.

Walking down the streets of Zariaspa had changed drastically in the two years that Nahri and Dara had lived here. For a while, they were treated almost as gods. Not in a sense that they were worshipped but that everyone seemed to be nervous around them. Too nervous to make eye contact or be more than a few paces closer to them. When Dara had gone to the market with Tamima the fruit salesman’s hands had trembled uncontrollably when they had paid him. He had hoped having an infant strapped to his back would make him seem more approachable and less like The Scourge, but what the people saw was Darayavahoush e-Afshin and the newest in the Nahid lineage. Residing in  _ their _ city. Shopping in  _ their _ market.

Eventually, they were treated more like royalty. In both good and bad ways. Zariaspans approached them on the street to introduce themselves, shop owners expressed their pride for having their patronage, and unfortunately, some voiced their distaste for a pureblood and “dirt blood” marriage with a “half breed daughter.” It had taken every ounce of self-control Dara had not to engage with the more hostile citizens but with Nahri’s help, he somehow managed.

"Nahri’s help" being a soothing word and a promise she would set loose one of the antagonizer’s horses or use her nimble fingers to steal their coin purse and toss it inconveniently on their roof.

This evening, and most evenings as of the past year, they were treated more as Daeva nobles. There was still some favoritism and the occasional child or teenager approached Dara begging for his audience of their archery, but people were not afraid to approach them. Instead of insults, they received some seething glares that they were only too happy to return.

Tonight they walked down the streets towards Kaveh’s home with Tamima toddling in between them, each holding one of her small hands. People passed them left and right as each of Tamima’s steps was a half step at best. 

The tedious walk was welcome as they knew it would lead their daughter to an exhausted and uninterrupted sleep.

“Eat?” she asked, eyes focused intently on her feet. 

“Yes, we’ll eat soon,” Nahri said. 

“Baba cook.”

“Not tonight. Tonight someone is cooking for us,” Dara said, shaking his head.

His eyes caught a group of women sitting on a cafe patio, murmuring to each other and smiling as they watched him with eager eyes. Dara felt his face flush and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. He’d never noticed the hungry gazes of admirers till Nahri had pointed it out and always found himself unsure of how to respond.

Fortunately, that was what Nahri was here for. Her eyes met the group of women and she threw an irritated look their way. They quickly averted their gaze and turned their attention back to their tea.

Dara gave Nahri a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she shrugged simply. “No one oggles you but me.”

Dara chuckled.

“Besides, I know how uncomfortable those looks make you feel.”

He was sure Nahri knew how uneasy such attention felt, but he knew his specific reasons were unique to him. The Nahid’s had selected him for many reasons when he was eighteen.  He was a promising warrior. The most skilled of all the Afshins. There was no one quite so deadly as him. And of course, a pretty face did not hurt to have in a leader. The Nahids had known that, had openly commented on that. To this day, while his features were seen as desirable by others, to him they were deadly and deceptive. The only person he could appreciate a compliment from was Nahri. Otherwise, he was a puppet, propaganda, once again.

“Baba, up!”

Dara’s frown faded, he looked down at Tamima whose steps had begun to drag. “We are so close though, Tamima.”

She scowled and turned her head to look at Nahri. “Amma, up!”

Nahri grimaced at Dara who gave her a stern look.

“Banu Nahida, may I remind you which of us puts her to bed most nights? Would you not mind making this easy on your Afshin tonight and exercise some will power?”

“But she’s adorable,” Nahri whispered.

Dara groaned. “That is not what we are disputing, little thief. We are discussing the fate of my night’s sleep.”

“How can you make me choose between the two of you?” Nahri grinned.

“I’m not asking you to choose either of us. A good night’s sleep is not a bad thing for Tamima,” Dara protested. 

“Well, I don't know how you can ask for a second child if you can’t control the one you already have, Darayavahoush...” purred Nahri.

Dara loved it when Nahri challenged him. Almost as much as he loved the sound of his proper name on her lips. He looked down at his daughter who was scowling up at him, she was quite literally being dragged along by the both of them now. 

Dara arched a brow at Tamima and sighed. “Yes, I suppose Amma is right… You are not strong enough to continue the journey. You are probably too small. Little girls cannot have the strength of great warriors after all...”

Tamima jutted her chin out in defiance. She did not understand much at just over two years old but being underestimated was one of the things she could comprehend, and it was always met with resistance.

She picked up her pace, panting softly, brows knitted together in concentration. 

Dara snorted. “She  _ is  _ your daughter.”

“This is decidedly a trait she inherits from  _ you,  _ Afshin. Whatever you are told to do you usually do the opposite.”

This playful slight was a compliment to Dara. A reminder that he was ordered about no longer. He decided for himself.

Upon the arrival at Kaveh’s estate, Dara felt the knot in his stomach resurface. He instinctively picked up Tamima who squealed with delight. Dara did not notice this as his eyes flickered about seeking out signs of danger.

“No guards present,” he murmured. “I do not believe you have reason to worry.”

“I know,” Nahri said, her voice still wary.

He knew she would do nothing to betray her fear though. No, she would not be seen as vulnerable outside the comfort of their home.

Dara knocked on one of the large, oak double doors and looked at Tamima, her head resting in the crook of his neck.

“Aye, no sleeping, little one. And remember your manners eating,” he said, stroking her short curls gently. “You have to say thank you.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“Creator, you’re impressive,” Dara remarked.

Nahri let out an amused laugh and pressed a kiss to Tamima’s cheek. 

The door opened and Dara was surprised to see a young man. Judging by his plain tunic and the way his head was bowed he was a servant. To Dara’s scanty knowledge and experience at this estate, Kaveh did not keep servants unless he anticipated staying here for some time, and this morning he had mentioned he had plans to leave tomorrow.

“May the fires burn brightly for you, Banu Nahida and Afshin,” he said pressing his palms together and bowing.

“And for you,” Dara replied. 

He tried to keep his tone casual so as not to frighten Nahri. After all, there was no need for alarm. Kaveh probably had servants brought over to help with dinner.

“I’ll show you to the dining area. The Grand Wazir will join you shortly.”

Dara nodded politely and cast a reassuring smile in Nahri’s direction, taking her hand. She threaded her fingers through his and they followed the young man through the spacious foyer, down a long hall, and into the room they recognized as the dining area from their former stay here. The dark wood of the table gleamed in the sunset’s rays streaming through the long windows. The servant gestured for them to continue in. 

Dara and Nahri sat on one of the plump cushions, Tamima between them. 

“I’ll return with some wine and the Grand Wazir soon,” the servant said before departing.

When Dara was sure he was out of earshot, he turned to Nahri to offer her a kind word only to see her checking the sleeve of her abaya. He squinted to see her pouch of throwing knives fastened firmly to her forearm. 

“Suleiman’s eye, Nahri…”

She shot him a knowing look. “Oh, don’t start.”

“You brought your  _ throwing knives  _ to a  _ dinner _ ?”

“You’re wearing your bow!” she hissed.

“I  _ always  _ wear my bow,” he countered with a raised brow. 

“Well, then you should have no objections to me wearing my knives...”

Dara swallowed. “Nahri, nothing seems amiss,” he lied.

“You are a  _ terrible  _ liar,” she snorted. “And even if that were true and we weren’t in the home of the man whose son we helped escape and commit treason, I would still have them. I usually do.”

“You do?” he whispered. “I hadn’t noticed…”

“Ya, Afshin. Because I hide them in my sleeve.”

“Well, we have to find you a proper sheath strap for your waist or leg or anywhere but tucked into your sleeve,” Dara muttered looking down at Tamima who was playing with the tassels of her dress. 

When he looked back up Nahri was grinning smugly.

“What?”

“Nothing, just… I am pleased you see things my way.”

“I have nothing against you being armed given the hazardous nature of our lives but I want you armed  _ properly _ .”

The servant returned with the Grand Wazir and a platter hosting four cups and a bottle of both wine and Tamarind juice.

“Pardon my tardiness,” Kaveh said sitting on the opposite side of the table. “Wine or Tamarind?”

Dara and Kaveh both took wine, while Tamima and Nahri favored the Tamarind. Pleasant conversation was exchanged before food was taken to the table by the servant boy and a young woman. Platters of spiced rice, fava beans, eggplant, yogurt dips, and fluffy manna were brought out eventually. 

As dinner was consumed and Kaveh’s uneasy nature slowly waned, Dara and Nahri became more assured that there was no danger here. 

“Kaveh, thank you again for having us but it is growing late and if you cannot tell by this face,” Dara said, gesturing to Tamima’s grumpy frown as she rubbed her eyes, “it is time for this one to be in bed.”

Kaveh stiffened. “I… please give me a moment. Just - wait here.”

He stood and left the dining room. The two servants followed. The knot returned in Dara’s stomach, the back of his neck getting hot. 

Dara turned to Nahri who was pulling Tamima close to her. “We should make a hasty exit. I do not wish to risk a line of questioning-”

“Yes, we’re on the same page. Shall we?” she said, rising from her seat. Nahri knelt before Tamima, pulling her to stand. “My love, remember when you were ill? You were over a bucket with your baba all night?”

Tamima nodded blearily. Dara stood, his eyes trained on the entryway to the dining room.

“I knew you would,” Nahri smiled. “Show me what that looked like? What you looked like when you felt sick.”

Dara glanced down to see Tamima’s eyes droop and her mouth drop a little. Nahri, still every bit the con-woman and passing it along to his daughter. The corner of his lip quirked up.

“Your baba is right, you _are_ very impressive.”

Tamima grinned then quickly returned to seeming ill. Nahri picked her up, placing her on her hip.

“Oh, little one, does your stomach hurt?” Nahri said just loud enough to reach the foyer. “We’ll get you straight home.”

Tamima let out a whimper and wrapped her arms around Nahri’s neck.

Nahri flashed Dara a wicked grin. “You asked for pickpocketing Nahids. Consider this the beginning of her training.”

“Yes, at this rate she’ll be arrested by the age of eight. Come,” he said starting for the exit.

Before they could even reach the entryway, they were stopped by a familiar face. 

“Afshin.”

Dara blinked and took a step back, he raised an arm to hold back Nahri and Tamima. “Jamshid.” 

“Afshin, I’m sorry. They found us.”

“Jamshid, do not apologize,” Kaveh said, rejoining them with the two servants. “Everyone take a seat again.” 

Kaveh’s commands were spoken in a hollow voice, but one that suggested he was in a position of power. Dara’s assumption was confirmed when two more men appeared behind Kaveh. The servants and their new companions took a stance that Dara recognized. They were outnumbered. He would need a better angle if he were to stand a chance against them all. For now, he would have to obey.

Nahri apparently realized this as well as she had already started to return to her cushion with Tamima. Dara remained standing before Kaveh, his eyes glancing at Jamshid briefly who took a seat as well. He looked thinner, weaker.

“Kaveh, I helped Jamshid alone. Nahri and Tamima did nothing to assist. They should leave us.”

Kaveh raised a hand and a smile, somewhat flippant, spread on his lips. “Afshin, fear not. This is not a trial. Jamshid and Muntadhir are accounted for and well. We are here to discuss other matters. Please, join your wife and child. Let us talk.”

Dara removed his bow and nocked an arrow. The “servants” behind Kaveh all showed the hilt of their khanjars and Dara stilled.

“Afshin, I do not wish to alarm your child. Please sit.”

“You realize I’ve no reason to trust you,” snarled Dara.

Kaveh nodded. “You may keep your bow drawn, all I ask is that you sit. I would not make such an offer if I meant you any harm.”

“Your men armed with khanjars are doing little to convince me of that, Grand Wazir…”

Kaveh glanced over his shoulder and raised a hand. His men tucked their khanjars away.

Kaveh turned back to Dara. “There. Please sit.”

Remaining on high alert, Dara stepped backward, his still bow drawn, and sat beside Nahri and Tamima. He glared up at Kaveh, blood boiling. He should have listened to his gut. He should’ve never come here. He certainly should not have brought his family.  He would be damned if he let his family down again.

Kaveh sat beside Jamshid. “Irtemiz, would you bring some saffron pudding for Tamima?”

The woman servant nodded and departed for the kitchen. Nahri had her arm wrapped tightly around Tamima who seemed too sleepy to be aware of the present danger. 

The five sat in deafening silence waiting for Irtemiz to return. Dara didn’t need to look at Nahri to see that she was fuming. He could practically feel her anger. He wasn’t sure if it was directed at him just yet, but likely more towards the Grand Wazir. 

Irtemiz returned and placed a small dish before Tamima then resumed her position beside the rest of Kaveh’s men. Tamima quickly became occupied with the dessert.

“Nahri,” Kaveh began. “There is much you don’t know that you were supposed to long ago. There have been some setbacks, mostly to do with your escape from Daevabad and the unfortunate deaths of three foolhardy ifrit…”

Dara felt his stomach leap into his throat. “You sent them?”

“No, Afshin, I did not,” Kaveh corrected. “And they were only meant to bring you to our camp. Not harm you. Qandisha has informed us that Aeshma, Cinvat and Vizaresh all got carried away with an attempt to murder you. She told us they made threats to harm your child and that when she tried to corral them they would not listen. Truthfully, Afshin, the way we see it, you had no choice but to kill them.”

“Qandisha was leading the charge… _insisting_ they kill me,” Dara said through gritted teeth.

“Regardless, it is in the past. We’ve spoken with Qandisha, she will be obedient to us.”

“You keep saying ‘us…’” Nahri said pointedly.

Kaveh held up a finger, “I’m getting there. First, Jamshid, would you please explain to the Banu Nahida that you have not been harmed. That she can trust us.”

Nahri and Dara looked to the Jamshid who had paled significantly. There were bags beneath his eyes suggesting it had been a long time since he’d slept. He swallowed hard, it seemingly took great effort.

“Muntadhir is safe. I am safe. They found us in the mountains when we were hunting. We’ve not been harmed,” he said with a feeble attempt to keep his voice even. “Nahri… they’ve told me that you are… you and Tamima are not the last Nahids.”

Dara looked to Nahri, he saw a flicker of cautious optimism in her eyes. The promise of a family. Of a mother. Of her own blood outside of him.

Jamshid looked at Kaveh who nodded, then spoke again. “Nahri, I am your brother.”

Dara’s first reaction was a flinch. He had paired the two at first. Not only had he been oblivious to Jamshid’s sexual preferences… but completely unaware that she was his sister. 

But was he telling the truth? Or rather, was what Kaveh had divulged the truth?

Kaveh.

Dara leaned forward, grip tightening on his bow. “Are we to assume that makes you Nahri’s father, Kaveh?”

“No, Afshin,” Kaveh said, shaking his head. He turned his attention to Nahri. “Manizeh had an affair with a shafit servant in the palace. A nameless face. That does not matter. What matters is that you have a brother, a family.”

The way Kaveh said the words made Dara sick. He was playing on Nahri’s deepest, most vulnerable desires. The need to belong to someone. Not in the way she belonged to Dara. A paternal belonging. Dara could see Nahri was struggling to keep her jaw in check. Jamshid’s brows furrowed and he reached across the table for her hand.

“You understand why this was kept secret from us? They couldn’t expose there was another Nahid-”

Nahri nodded. “Ghassan would’ve killed you.”

“Yes.”

“This brings us to why we are all here,” Kaveh interjected. “Ghassan. He must be removed. His oppression of the Daeva grows each day. He treats Daevabad as though it belongs to him, to his people. This cannot continue.”

“And you’re to put an end to his tyranny with your handful of warriors, treacherous ifrit, and the rumored Manizeh?” Dara growled.

“She is not rumored.”

Everyone’s heads turned to the doorway. A woman entered the room dressed in a humble abaya. Dara heard Nahri gasp. This woman looked so similar to Nahri. The same eyes. The same nose. The only differences were the lines on her face, the faint bits of grey in her hair, and something about the smile she wore that Dara couldn’t quite define.

“May the fires burn brightly for you, Afshin,” she said pleasantly. She looked to Nahri. “And for you, my daughter.”

Kaveh stood and joined her side. “Manizeh, you were supposed to wait…”

“I’ve waited over three decades now to meet my daughter. I will not postpone it another moment, my love.”

Kaven bowed his head, acquiescing. Dara looked at Jamshid who sat stiff as a board. Their eyes briefly met and he could see that the Daeva man was not fearful of this woman - no he looked exhausted with worry. 

When Dara turned his attention to Nahri, she looked awestruck, the fingers of her free hand covering her open mouth. He could see her dark eyes were glimmering with tears of disbelief. 

She looked at him. “Can it… it isn’t…”

As strange as it felt Dara knew it was possible. This was Nahri’s mother. Nahri’s mother with a death wish for Ghassan, but Nahri’s mother nonetheless.

“Nahri, I believe it is,” he said softly.

Manizeh took a step closer to Nahri and Dara. He stood to his feet instinctively, planting himself in front of both Tamima and Nahri then glanced over his shoulder.

“Nahri… I know that she is… I know who she is to you, but… she is working with the ifrit.”

Nahri’s brows knitted together and Dara could see her grip on Tamima tighten. 

“He is right,” Manizeh said forlornly.

He turned to look back at the woman that Ghassan had seemed to fear so much. That he had heard murmurs of horror from many Geziri about. She seemed so… diplomatic. Not at all a monster.

“Afshin, you must understand that I am in need of allies. I do not like the ifrit anymore than another Daeva, but we have the same end goal. We need to work together. For Daevabad’s sake,” she said imploringly. Her eyes grew softer and reached for his arm.

Dara’s knuckles tightened on his arrow and she slowly shrunk back.

“Darayavahoush, you have no idea how long I have needed you. I tried to summon you, the hero of our people to come to our aid. And here you are now. As though you were plucked from the tales of your legend and placed before me.”

The tone in her voice made his stomach turn. She sounded just like _them_. Just like the Nahids he and his family had knelt before. Both overly complimentary and sickeningly genuine. As though the obvious flattery had reasoning behind it. Maybe it did. There seemed to be substance to her admiration and Dara was aware after his visit to Daevabad with Nahri all those years ago that he was seen as a savior of sorts.

The thought of his crimes being viewed with reverence only served to increase his nausea. 

“And to also find that my daughter has married you, has continued our lineage with _you_. It’s more than I could have hoped for,” Manizeh said with a breathless laugh. Once again, her eyes begged him. “Please, step aside. Let me see my daughter.”

Dara paused then slowly faced Nahri. She stood, eyes trained on Manizeh.

“Nahri,” he said quietly. “Nahri, if you wish I will stand aside. I cannot make this choice for you.”

She nodded, jaw set in determination. He was grateful she was not yet won over, still cautious of Manizeh. “I understand.”

Dara stepped aside, his legs feeling like lead. He looked down at Tamima who seemed vaguely aware of the emotional reunion, but still enamored by her dessert. Good. The less she knew the better. He prayed that if this meeting became a battle it would quickly fade from her memory. He did not want her to see him like that. A fierce warrior. He too much enjoyed being her father.

Nahri finally crossed to Manizeh who embraced her tenderly. Dara’s eyes met each of who he now assumed were soldiers behind Manizeh. They all seemed rather unfocused. Amateurs. Clearly not trained.

Nahri and Manizeh separated, he could see that bewilderment was still etched on Nahri’s face. As though she still couldn’t comprehend what was happening. 

“You’ve made quite a life for yourself. You call yourself, Nahri?” 

Nahri only nodded. Dara refused to hazard the question as to what her true name was. It was the only feeble protection she had left. That her true name was only known to one. 

“Our ancestors would disapprove of a marriage to an Afshin you know?” Manizeh smiled. “But you have chosen well, as I’m sure you are aware.”

Dara saw distress and distrust flash on Nahri’s face. She did not revere his history and the fact her mother did raised a flag for them both.

Manizeh looked around Nahri to peer down at Tamima. Dara stepped in between them both. He would not let a power-hungry Nahid harm his family again. He would not let his nightmares come true.

“And a daughter. She is beautiful,” Manizeh remarked with a warm smile. 

Her eyes lit with discovery and Dara felt panic strike him. 

Manizeh’s hand fell to Nahri’s stomach. “And another one on the way.”

Dara felt his limbs freeze. His jaw clenched.

Nahri was pregnant? Again? It all made sense. The recent rejection of wine. Her refusal of extra cups of tea. The increasingly frequent trips to the bathroom in the night.

“It is… still very early,” Nahri said, taking a step backward. “I had hoped-”

“I apologize,” Manizeh said with a bow of her head. “I should not have said anything. Congratulations to you all.”

Nahri gave an unsteady nod and rejoined Dara. He could tell her mind was racing just as quickly as his. This reunion was not so innocent. If Jamshid’s anguished expression wasn’t proof enough then Manizeh appealing to Dara’s darker talents was all the warning they required that Nahri’s mother's resurfacing was not a good thing. 

Dara saw Nahri reaching for the inside of her sleeve - for her daggers. For all her practice she was not well versed in strategy. It was not clear that two of them did not stand a chance here. Especially with Tamima at risk. He took her hand, squeezing it in a warning.

“Why have you come to us?” Dara asked. 

Manizeh’s gentle expression fell. “Because we need your help. To take back Daevabad from Ghassan. To get the seal for our people.”

“I will not be The Scourge for you,” Dara said, the words bitter on his tongue. “Ghassan is despicable but I will not serve violence to innocents any longer.”

“And I would never ask that of you, Afshin,” Manizeh said resolutely. “Our men need a leader. They need someone to show them how to use a bow, a weapon. Someone to make sure they survive. I have no doubt that you and Jamshid will make great Daeva protectors of them all. My son will make great progress, but this rebellion would be nothing without Darayavahoush to lead the charge.”

“Afshin,” Jamshid interrupted, his voice hoarse. “I have no practice on the battlefield. They have no chance of survival with my training alone.”

Before Dara could counter, Manizeh was speaking again.

“And Nahri, our camp needs a healer,” Manizeh said, her hands pressed together. “I would not dare attempt this without my daughter at my side. You deserve to earn your place on the throne beside me and your brother.”

“I feel like you are not asking,” Nahri replied.

Dara saw Manizeh wince at the confidence in her daughter’s reply. A brief wave of pride washed over him. His wife was no fool.

“I can see that you are skeptical and I would expect nothing less,” Manizeh said discerningly. “We’ve only just met. I’m asking you to leave the lives you have made to help me in a rebellion. It is wise of you to be questioning.”

_ But?  _

There was never not a “but” when confronting logical distrust. 

Manizeh continued on. “But if you help us - if you join me - your mother, your brother, your  _ people _ , you could return to Daevabad. Give power to someone who will ensure the Daeva are not mistreated. To see that all of Daevabad lives in peace. To give your daughter, your unborn a better life,” Manizeh said, her voice too coaxing. “If you come to the camp and you do not like what you see then you can leave. Return to Zariaspa. When our rebellion is over, if we have succeeded, you will have a place by my side regardless. I only offer you the opportunity to help and, Afshin…” Manizeh looked at Dara, her dark eyes pressing. “The opportunity to see that no more Daeva blood is spilled.”

“Baba?”

Dara looked down at Tamima who had finished her pudding. 

“Sleepy,” she grumbled.

He cast a wary glance at the Manizeh then quickly, wrapped his bow around his shoulders, and scooped up Tamima. She nestled into his chest with a quiet yawn. He clutched her closer to him and looked to Nahri. 

Nahri cleared her throat. “Let us give you an answer in the morning.”

Manizeh smiled. “Of course. I would never ask you to give your word so suddenly.” She faced one of the men behind her. “Gushtap, show them up to one of the bedrooms.”

Dara felt his stomach sink. They were prisoners. He wouldn’t let his concern show. He would play along for the time being.

“Tomorrow we will have breakfast, you can ask whatever questions you wish and if you do not wish to accompany us, so be it.”

_ So be it, eh?  _

Dara noticed Manizeh didn’t say they could return to their home or that they would depart without a word, leaving them in peace. They were going to the camp whether they wanted to or not. The only difference was that they could go willingly or as prisoners. There was no fighting off the ifrit or any of Manizeh’s soldiers - especially without knowing their numbers.

“Jamshid,” Nahri said as they began to follow the young man named Gushtap. “We will speak tomorrow.”

Jamshid nodded in response. 

Dara felt Manizeh’s lingering gaze as they left the dining area and headed up the stairs. Gushtap did not say a word until they reached the largest guestroom. He gestured inside with a polite smile. 

“May the fires burn brightly for you all,” he said, and then departed, shutting the door.

“Home?” Tamima asked before Dara could say anything.

“Not tonight, little one,” he said as calmly as possible.

“Sleepy, baba.”

“I know, my love. Let’s get you into the bed, shall we?” he said, offering her the most sincere smile he could.

She nodded. Dara glanced at Nahri who had a hand clasped over her mouth. Her eyes were once again glistening and he could tell that she was both angry, fearful, and hurt. He gave her a reassuring nod. 

“Tamima, why don’t you give amma a kiss goodnight,” he said, walking closer to Nahri and leaning their daughter towards her. 

Tamima placed a sleepy, wet kiss on Nahri’s cheek. “Night, amma.”

“Goodnight, darling” Nahri managed hoarsely. She exhaled and met Dara’s eyes. “I’ll be on the balcony.”

“I’ll join you.”

Dara helped Tamima wriggle out of her pants and slippers then tucked her into the covers. Normally she would’ve required a lullaby or a story, but as expected, the walk over had thoroughly exhausted her. She quickly fell asleep as her head hit the pillow. 

Dara smoothed the curls away from her forehead, taking in her sleeping face. The way her mouth hung open and quiet snores escaped her lips. What had he gotten them into?

_ We shouldn’t have come. We shouldn’t have come. You’ve doomed them, you fool. _

Dara shut his eyes tight, banishing the defeatist thoughts. He stood and quietly made his way to the glass doors that led to the balcony. Nahri leaned against the marbled railing staring ahead blankly.

“I am so sorry, Nahri. I truly-”

“Dara, no,” she cut him off fiercely and pulled him into her arms. 

He had not realized the tears he had been holding in until they flowed so freely down his cheeks. Nahri held him close, face buried in his shoulder. His fingers slipped under her chador, threading in her curls. 

“I should’ve known.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“But you said-”

“Dara,” Nahri said, pulling away. Her dark eyes blazed. “Neither of us could have known what this was. We were betrayed. We were betrayed beyond our wildest expectations. And it does nothing if we dwell on how we failed to have any foresight.”

He nodded. She was right. They needed a plan. 

Dara surveyed the ground beneath them. Men patrolled the grounds in pairs. They could easily kill them all if they were careful. But they could not escape. The safest place for them right now was the palace and even then the odds were unpredictable. Not to mention they wouldn’t make it far before Kaveh, Manizeh, or whatever ifrit were waiting in the shadows caught up to them. 

Then there was Jamshid. He would not have left the boy behind _before_ he knew that he was Nahri’s brother, and certainly could not now. They were trapped. The safest option was to go with Manizeh.

As though reading his thoughts, Nahri spoke. “We have to go with them.”

Dara frowned. “I am afraid so.”

“We can work out a plan from there,” she said obstinately. “I don’t know what but-”

“That is a good plan, for now, Banu Nahida. When we arrive at the camp we will see what can be done,” he said, trying to sound comforting. “We will figure something out. Jamshid and Muntadhir, they can be counted upon.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “He did not appear well…”

“Of course he did not. They were captured and are very clearly being held against their will - no matter what facade they’re trying to put on. We would be wise to follow suit,” Dara muttered. “We will get an audience with them. We will work something out. Nahri, we  _ will  _ be safe again. For good.”

Nahri nodded, her hand slid into his as she joined him at the balcony’s edge. He gave her the most hopeful smile he could muster but Dara could tell she was not convinced. She looked as though she were going to protest.

“There is nothing we can do now, Nahri. We cannot take further measures until we reach their camp,” Dara said gently. “So for now, let us have one last night without scheming. It may be our last for a while.”

Nahri nodded in response and sniffed. She took his other hand and exhaled a shaky breath, trying to calm herself.

“I wish I could have some wine. This stress isn’t good right now - I’m going to have chest pains I bet. I’m only two months in… Congratulations by the way,” she said with a wry smile. “You’ll have that second one you’ve been begging me for soon. Hopefully.”

Dara grinned down at her. “What does that mean? Hopefully?”

“Dara… it’s early…”

“You cannot eat your words, Banu Nahida. You said you were two months in,” he smiled. “That leaves us only  _ seven months _ to have a name for our son.”

Nahri laughed. “I won’t know what they are for another two months, Afshin. You do not know it is a son.”

“Well, you promised me one of each at least. You said the next would be a pick-pocketing son if I recall.”

“Dara, it may not be viable-”

“Do you still favor the name Khayzur?” he interrupted. At her silence, he raised his brows. “Nahri?”

The creases in her forehead smoothed and were replaced with a defeated smile - happy to be defeated. “Yes, I do. But Darayavahoush is also good.”

“No. A thousand times no, little thief,” he chuckled. “Our son will not be cursed with such a long name. Especially with how his mother mangled it the first time she tried to pronounce it.”

“You don’t know it will be a boy. Stop sounding so self-assured…”

Dara released one of her hands, placing it over her still flat stomach. He made a contemplative face. “Yes, I can tell. It’s a boy.”

“Oh, you’re a Nahid now?” Nahri cackled. “You can set a few bones and mix with a mortar and pestle and now you have Nahid magic?”

“Call it a father’s intuition then,” he shrugged. “Though I wouldn’t mind another girl.” 

“You would be outnumbered then.”

He lifted her chin with his knuckle. “I will gladly take those odds. Though I’m certain no Afshin was ever tasked with looking after three Nahids on their own.”

“Four if you count Jamshid…”

“I can think of only one that gives me the most trouble, little thief.”

Their lips met and Dara did his best to forget their current predicament. That they were prisoners. That they were about to be forced into a war they did not want to join. That Dara was teetering close to the edge of a cliff where they would lose everything. 

“Dara,” she said as their lips parted. 

“Yes,” he murmured.

“We will keep them safe. I know it.”

“Of course we will,” Dara replied as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “We will be back in our home with Tamima and Khayzur very soon, I am certain.”

Dara wished that the words didn’t feel so hollow in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NGL, the next chapters are gonna be pretty lengthy so updates may take longer since I wanna edit and not just send them out willy nilly - but we are getting to the end, folks


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Dara's perspective: Nahri and Dara arrive at Manizeh's camp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm able to edit these quicker than I expected. Honestly, I'm just eager to get them all churned out and finish off this fic. It's been fun writing it but I gotta secure that ending

Nahri had been every bit as convincing as Dara expected on the ride over to the camp. She rode her horse alongside Manizeh and while he could not make out their conversation he did see Manizeh’s cheek lift with a smile many times. Nahri seemed to laugh at a few comments she had made. She almost had Dara convinced that Manizeh had won her over. It was only the occasional wink over her shoulder that reassured him.

A wink, they had decided two nights ago, would be their signal on the journey over for any reassurance needed. They had realized they wouldn't be alone often as they made their way to camp and communication nonverbally would be necessary. Not just any wink though - that was too obvious. It had to seem as flirtatious and lighthearted as possible. 

Flirtatious winking did not come naturally to Dara, nor did it look so. His own signal was two jerks of his chin. A signal Nahri had warned him he would need to be nonchalant with. Lying made the Afshin nervous. He was prone to honest anger over deception which is why Tamima rode with him.

It was a past time of theirs anyway and kept him occupied so he did not have to interact with anyone. Occasionally Jamshid would speed up on his horse to ride by Dara’s side, asking if the Afshin was alright or if Tamima required any food but that was it for their conversations.

Eventually, as night fell on the second day and Tamima fell asleep on Dara’s back, the woman servant - Irtemiz he recalled - cantered to ride at his side.

He frowned. These “warriors” of Manizeh's looked at him like a god. The same way the children had in the Grand Temple that night. He did not relish their adoration for his crimes - the crimes Manizeh led them to believe were acts of heroism. 

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, scowling and hoping it would deter her - but she easily trotted at his side. It was impressive actually. She seemed very at ease on her horse with how casually she sat. Almost as “born in the saddle” as an Afshin from what he could tell.

“My daughter is sleeping and should you wake her simply so you can gawk at me I will be displeased,” he grumbled.

Dara saw the corner of her lip hitch up in a smirk. “I apologize, Afshin. I only wanted to tell you that we were nearly to camp.”

Dara fought off a pang of guilt. She was a traitor to the Daeva. She was working with ifrit. She had pulled a khanjar on him and his family. She did not deserve his sympathy.

“And also that I’ll be at your service for the duration of your stay.”

Dara cocked a brow, shooting her a skeptical look. “I am guessing you begged Kaveh or Manizeh for this position in hopes of being Darayavahoush e-Afshin’s companion? You wish to brag to your fellow warriors?” he sneered.

Irtemiz snorted and Dara nearly wobbled on his horse at her audacity. He was The Scourge to these people and she had practically laughed at him? His feelings, as usual, were very apparent in the expression on his face. Irtemiz quickly composed herself. 

“Forgive me, I don’t mean to laugh,” she said, her eyes trained straight ahead again. “I was chosen for the position for exactly the opposite reason.”

Dara rolled his eyes. “So you despise me, is that it? Or you’re simply unimpressed with attempted genocide?” he said flatly.

She smiled, apparently amused with his sarcasm, and arched a brow. “Afshin, I’m from a country town. I have visited Daevabad twice in my whole life. I hardly remember a moment of it, I was too young,” she explained. “So unlike my fellow warriors - and I used the term ‘warriors’ generously - I did not grow up visiting your shrine or hearing tall tales of your supposed heroics.”

_Supposed?_

“I say ‘supposed’ because you do not seem to have any regard for them,” she added. “Anyway, Manizeh assumed you would appreciate such qualities in an aide. Someone who doesn’t fawn over you, that is.”

Dara eyed Manizeh’s back. She looked over her shoulder briefly meeting his gaze then flickering between him and Irtemiz. She gave the girl an appreciative nod before turning back to Nahri. 

“So you know nothing of me?” Dara muttered. “A Daeva who knows nothing of Darayavahoush?”

“I didn’t say that. I know all about you. I just don’t worship as they do,” Irtemiz said jerking her head in the direction of the party behind them. “I will say that your talent with a bow _does_ impress me.”

“I’m flattered,” Dara deadpanned.

Irtemiz snickered and Dara found the heavyweight on his shoulders had lightened, if only a little, at the levity of their casual conversation.

“I only mean, Afshin, that I would be lucky to have such talent. I’ve not held a bow myself though…”

Dara didn’t want to continue the conversation. He didn’t want to grow even slightly attached to these warriors. If it came down to it, he would sacrifice each and every one of them to get Nahri and Tamima out of here safely. He raised his chin a fraction and against his better judgment… kept speaking to the girl.

“And why not?”

She shrugged. “Never was a need. But Jamshid said he’d be teaching us all how to use a bow - with your help of course.”

“He said that, did he?”

Irtemiz only nodded.

“So I’m to assume the role of General Afshin, yet again,” he muttered disdainfully. “And you’re to be in my guard then?”

Irtemiz gave him a challenging look, her chin lifted defiantly. “Would you be turning your nose up at Gushtap if it were he you were speaking to?”

Dara was taken aback at her bluntness. She was not pulling her punches with him. He had to admit, it was preferable to another admirer no matter what the comment insinuated.

“I only mean that you are all very young and… it is not often women are fond of war…”

“Is anyone ‘fond of war?’” she countered. “And I wouldn’t underestimate me or Laleh. Laleh is quiet but she’s a quick learner.”

“And you?”

Irtemiz grinned. “I’m _chatty_ but a quick learner.”

This time Dara snorted. She reminded him very much of his sister. An aspiring warrior. She was amused rather than angered at his snarky comments. She didn’t seem afraid of him either or hesitant to speak with him.

_Do not get attached. You know better. Warriors die. Especially when their Afshin abandons them._

And he would have no choice but to abandon them. He had to put Nahri and Tamima first. 

But still, if he was to keep his sanity… he would need someone to talk to. His time with Nahri and Tamima would likely be limited once they arrived at camp and Jamshid wasn’t likely to be his merry protege in these current conditions. Perhaps this Irtemiz would be a sufficient substitute.

But if it came down to it, he would need to leave her to fend for herself and not look back.

“I apologize for my disparaging comments towards… your gender,” he said with as much courage as he could muster. “We did not have any female warriors in my day.”

The Daeva woman raised a dark brow at Dara. “Have you heard of Irtemiz e-Nahid?”

Dara vaguely remembered a stone statue of the woman in the Grand Temple. “She has a shrine I believe. I am guessing that she is your namesake?” 

“That she is,” Irtemiz said. “I suppose you wouldn’t know, would you? It was about six hundred years ago. _After_ your time.”

He paused waiting for her to continue. “ _Well_? What is she to have accomplished? I confess I do not know…”

“I was hoping you would ask.”

“Your generation is a theatrical one,” Dara muttered.

She barked a laugh. “The Qahtanis attacked the Grand Temple trying to burn it down with many Daeva trapped inside. She held down their assault and used her abilities to control the flames,” Irtemiz said casually. “And then she sent a spear through the eye of the Qahtani prince.”

Dara’s lips turned down in approval of Irtemiz e-Nahids heroics. He had thought himself to be much more forward-thinking, teaching Nahri to knife throw, and having high hopes of his daughter shooting a bow. But he had no idea just how clueless he was about how far women had come since his first life.

“And then they cut off her head and threw her body in the lake,” Irtemiz said, her tone very factual. 

Dara’s head snapped in her direction. “That is excessive.”

The girl ducked her head and Dara was suddenly very embarrassed. He supposed it would be odd to hear The Scourge declare an act of horror as “excessive.” It was kind of her not to say as much though. 

He cleared his throat. “Well, if you are hoping to throw a spear through the eye of a djinn-“

“Afshin, I’m afraid to admit that you may find my aim hopeless,” she cringed.

Dara noted that she did seem genuinely disheartened - almost embarrassed. Another ache of sympathy for her went through him. Not that of a father, but more of a brother. 

“Well, then it is fortunate that I am a patient teacher,” he said, eyes trained straight ahead. “And you said you were a fast learner?”

“I think so,” she shrugged. “The emphasis may ultimately be on the ‘chatty’ part I mentioned though.”

“Do you _wish_ to learn?” Dara asked simply.

“Of course.”

“Then it matters not if you are a quick learner.”

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She was beaming.

_Do not get attached. Do not get attached._

She was as dead as her namesake. He would do what he could to teach her to defend herself but that was all. She was not a priority. Irtemiz was a walking casualty. He had to accept that. He could not dwell on hope for any of these recruits.

Then again, she could be an ally. She _seemed_ smart. Unlike the rest of Manizeh’s people, Irtemiz did not have reverence for The Scourge. His history did not seem to matter to her.

_Do not get attached._

“There it is,” Irtemiz said, shaking him from his thoughts. 

Dara followed her gaze to a spot coming into view just over the hill. Many small campfires dotted the horizon - the pointed tops of felt tents peaking out. With the bitter chill that only got colder as they ascended, the more fire the better. He would have to ensure Tamima stayed properly bundled.

“I’ll ride ahead and see a tent is prepared for the three of you. Any specifications?” Irtemiz asked, her voice very much that of a well trained soldier suddenly.

“As many blankets as you are able. And see that our quarters are nowhere near any of your ifrit,” Dara snarled.

“Aye, Afshin. Will that be all?”

If she was going to be so accommodating he may as well make use of her.

“It would put my wife’s mind at ease to be near her brother. Can see you he is stationed close by?”

“I can secure you a spot by him and the emir. Anything else?”

Dara could think of nothing else, but for good measure, it would do him well to show Irtemiz that her kind deeds were appreciated. To show her he valued loyalty. Who knew, maybe she would fulfill the need for an ally.

“No. Is there anything I may do for you to express our gratitude?”

She looked at him quizzically. “I am your aide. It is my job to assist.”

“Regardless…” Dara said, trying to appear nonchalant.

Irtemiz appeared to ponder this. “For now, just trust that you are not alone in your reluctance towards working with the ifrit,” she said quietly. “And if you want a recruit’s insight, none of us trust them.”

Dara’s eyes flitted to Manizeh then behind him to Kaveh to see if any of them had overheard Irtemiz’s words. No one seemed to notice.

“Irtemiz, you would do well to keep such thoughts to yourself.”

He said this not only for her safety, but for his own sake. Believing that she and all of these recruits were content to work with those monsters was one of the only condolences he could give himself for inevitably abandoning them.

“Apologies, Afshin. I only meant to offer you some comfort.”

Once again, any sign of casual demeanor vanished and she was every bit a soldier. In the time he served as Afshin, Dara had observed it was rare to find someone equal parts companion and comrade. He again felt bad for scorning her but set his jaw. Dara did not intend to make any friends here.

“I’ll ride ahead now and see all preparations are made for your arrival,” she said with a nod. “I’ll also see that some food is brought to your tent.”

“That will be good. Thank you.”

“Of course, Afshin. I’ll meet you at the stables.”

And Irtemiz took off, her horse galloping ahead of the rest of the group. 

Dara noted the ease with which she rode at this speed. He imagined that while she had not had any training with a bow, she’d likely had plenty of time on her hands and enough space to ride in whatever country town she hailed from. 

She would make a promising recruit. _Especially_ if she could learn to hold a bow on horseback. 

_You are not leading these men. You are not helping them sack another city. You are not their Afshin._

He tore his eyes from Irtemiz's retreating form and focused straight ahead, his gaze on Manizeh’s back. She and Nahri were only just in front of them but they felt a world away. He wondered what they had talked about today. When they had briefly camped last night Nahri had told Dara that she mostly asked about her life in Cairo. It was strange and frankly felt humiliating, but Dara had a lingering concern that she would attempt to turn Nahri to her side. 

_Nahri is smart._

He kept having to remind himself of this. Nahri wasn’t an eighteen-year-old being told she would lead their people to glory. She was a smart and capable woman of almost thirty-five. 

Thirty-five. He’d not been much younger the first time war had taken his life from him. She would see more years. A vengeful Nahid wouldn’t hypnotize Nahri into putting her life on the line. No, Nahri herself _was_ a Nahid. She couldn’t be fooled. 

_Even by her own mother?_

No matter how many times he rationalized, no matter how many times he convinced himself that Nahri would be fine, that thought still taunted him. This was her mother. A mother she never knew. Dara worried that Manizeh may have had a hold on Nahri that he could not. 

It did not do well to dwell on such thoughts. It certainly wouldn’t help him to be paranoid either. Tonight they would speak and he would make every concern known.

Entering the camp, Dara found an oddly comforting wave of nostalgia falling over him. There were people gathered around campfires eating modest but warm meals, blankets wrapped around their shoulders as they swapped stories - some laughing and others listening intently. It was familiar. He remembered this environment well. It was the only comfort you had as an Afshin - as any warrior for that matter. A safe and warm place to return where you could rest your head for the night.

The inhabitants of the camp were not as familiar. Men, women, children, the elderly, and wounded. Kaveh had not been exaggerating when he said the camp was occupied by all sorts of people. People that Manizeh had found in dire straits and gladly “took under her wing.”

_Or took advantage of their desperation…_

The residents of the camp all found their eyes on Dara and Nahri as well. Some looked panicked - either deciding whether they bowed to another Banu Nahida or terrified of Darayavahoush e-Afshin returning to the battlefield.

His eyes were shrewd as he searched for any sight of the ifrit. Perhaps they were already asleep for the evening. He wouldn’t question his good fortune in not seeing them yet. 

He was suddenly very aware of his daughter sleeping on his back. He hoped they would be inside their tent soon.

As they approached the stables - more of a large hut with crudely cut, tall logs for posts - Irtemiz walked up, waiting patiently.

Dara carefully dismounted his horse and went to fasten him to one of the posts but Irtemiz was already knotting it gently.

She looked up at him. “Gather your things and I’ll show you all to your tent, Afshin.”

Doing as he was told, and not used to such servitude, Dara removed the saddlebag and rucksack from the horse. He noticed that the ten horses they’d traveled on appeared to be all the horses they were in possession of.

This army would not be on horseback when they charged into battle - that was for certain.

_There will not be a battle if you can help it. And even if there is you will not be there. You will not make Nahri a widow._

These grim thoughts continued to haunt him. Nahri would be the only one to banish them.

He turned to her to see Manizeh introducing her to an elderly woman. Her own aide perhaps?

“Afshin.”

Dara turned around to see Jamshid. Stubble coated his jaw and his eyes, though still tired, were hopeful. Dara didn’t need to ask why. The emir was in this camp. Who knew how long it had been since they were together.

“Pramukh,” Dara said with a nod.

“I wanted to catch you before you were taken to your quarters and tell you that I’ll meet you at dawn right here at the stables.”

The sentence was finished but Jamshid’s eyes suggested otherwise. Dara raised his brow and leaned closer towards Jamshid, perhaps encouraging him to continue.

Jamshid inclined his head. “We will figure something out, yes?” he whispered.

Dara’s eyes flickered about their surroundings checking for any listening ears before he responded. There were too many people. Jamshid would have to be more careful.

“Yes, I imagine we will. We don’t have long to train them all I suspect,” Dara said pointedly.

Jamshid nodded vigorously, taking Dara’s meaning, and turned to leave him. 

Kaveh was approaching but Jamshid shouldered past him. Dara wasn’t sure how to feel about Kaveh right now. He had betrayed them. Lied to them. Put Dara’s family - a family Dara gripped till his knuckles were white - in danger. 

And at the same time… would Dara do differently in Kaveh’s position?

If Tamima, his only child, had run off without a word to be with the one she loved would he not search to the ends of the earth for her? Would he be able to leave her if he found her again?

If Nahri came to Dara and asked him to walk into fire with him, to fight at her side, would he deny her?

He wanted to hate Kaveh. He didn’t want to empathize. But at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to say he wouldn’t have done the same in Kaveh’s shoes. So when the Grand Wazir opened his mouth to speak to Dara he shot him a look, silencing him. Nothing more. Nothing less.

He walked past him to join Nahri and Manizeh. The elderly woman Nahri had been speaking with departed.

“Afshin,” Manizeh said with a somber smile. “I’ll let Irtemiz show you all to your quarters. I’m sure you are tired. We can speak in the morning.”

He regarded her with a single bow of us his head. The charade of ambivalence had to continue. 

Manizeh turned to Nahri. “Good night, daughter. It brings me great comfort that both of my children are finally with me.”

Nahri offered a warm smile. It was so sincere that Dara nearly flinched.

Kaveh joined Manizeh’s side and with delicate wave of her hand, they walked off towards the tents. 

Nahri looked to Dara as though to say something but Irtemiz had stepped forward.

“Afshin, Banu Nahri, I’ll show you to your tent,” she said gesturing ahead of them. She began to walk down the aisle of campfires and tents, Dara and Nahri just behind her. “Banu Nahri, the Afshin requested a tent far from the ifrit and close to your brother and the emir. Jamshid and Muntadhir will be just adjacent to you. I also had the men pitch a larger tent so there would be plenty of room for both of you and your daughter, so your tent will practically be touching your brother's. I hope that is not an inconvenience.”

“That’s fine,” Nahri said giving Dara’s hand a grateful squeeze.

Dara felt very proud of himself for making such an apt assessment of his wife’s needs. For a moment, it made everything feel normal and not as though they were prisoners.

The eyes of the camp’s residents - additional warriors and the elderly alike - carefully watched the four of them. Dara glanced over his shoulder at Tamima who was still sleeping soundly. He did not like their eyes studying them.

“It is rude to stare,” Irtemiz said snapping her finger at an older couple. She looked over her shoulder at Dara and Nahri. “It’s like they’ve never seen Banu Nahri and her ancient protector before.”

Nahri snorted and looked to Dara with an raised brow. He shook his head. This Irtemiz was unusually high spirited for the resident of a cold mountain camp who was being forced to train for war.

They arrived at a larger tent set just before a fire. True to Irtemiz’s word, they were practically touching the tent beside them. Jamshid and Muntadhir’s.

Irtemiz pulled back the felt curtain to their tent. “Three sleeping mats and a stack of blankets in the corner. Nahri, your aide - the one from the stables - should’ve delivered some food and tea as well. Afshin, I’ll wake you at dawn.”

When Dara and Nahri only nodded, Irtemiz pressed her palms together and departed.

Nahri stared at Jamshid and Muntadhir’s tent. 

Dara shook his head. “Tomorrow. It will seem suspicious tonight.”

Nahri sighed. “You’re right.” 

She stepped into the tent lit by a single glass orb containing a ball of fire, Dara just behind her. 

As he began to unwind the fabric on his back to remove Tamima, Nahri dressed the sleeping mats with the blankets.

Dara cradled Tamima in his arms. Her eyes opened, lids heavy. Dara had to purse his lips to stop himself from weeping. She did not belong here. 

“Baba, where?”

His eyes flickered to Nahri who frowned.

Dara forced a comforting smile. “Camping. We’re on an adventure.”

Tamima yawned, her eyes drooping back shut. Dara kneeled and laid her on the bed mat between him and Nahri’s. She shivered and Nahri immediately covered her with three, thick blankets, tucking them in around her sides with a sniff.

Dara met her gaze to see that her eyes were shining with tears. He quickly crossed to her side of the tent, his stomach lurching at her distress. Dara sat on her mat, pulling her down gently by her wrist. She melted in his embrace and he felt her tears start to saturate his shirt. 

Dara pressed a kiss to the top of her head, holding her tighter. “It is bad, that is true. I assure you that tomorrow you will feel better though,” he tried. 

“We cannot trust her, Dara,” Nahri said resolutely. “I don’t like her look and there’s something about her… kindness that doesn’t feel… real.”

Dara smiled mirthlessly. “I suppose nothing has changed. The Nahids often used flattery and empty promises to get their way.”

“I suppose you _would_ know,” Nahri muttered, finally pulling away to look at him. Her eyes were red and puffy. “They tried to compliment you into doing their bidding too?”

“Oh, yes,” Dara said bitterly. “Their words weren’t exactly hollow though. What was so promising was that they were telling the truth. Using local gossip or in my case, my training marks.” 

The self-satisfied smiles of the council played in his mind. He found himself scowling at the memory. His father had been perfectly aware of the game, but Dara had been absorbed in their praise. Completely absorbed but still… he remembered that it felt like something was missing from the Nahid’s words.

“You knew they weren’t lying,” Dara repeated, “but there was something wrong with their words that you couldn’t put your finger on. There was something dangerous. Like a shedu. Magnificent but dangerous.”

Nahri was silent, her brows knitted together. He could see the wheels turning in her mind. While Dara wasn’t the most traditionally practical person, he recognized that racing thoughts and being exhausted were a poor combination - especially for someone who was pregnant. There were no good plans either of them could come up with in this state.

Dara threaded his fingers through Nahri’s.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said softly. “Tomorrow we both will get a feel for what we’re up against and then we’ll reconvene and figure something out. We are no good right now, Banu Nahida.”

Nahri nodded solemnly. 

Dara looked at the corner of the tent where on a small, short, round table sat a plate of flatbread and a teapot with three cups. 

He moved away from Nahri pouring a cup of the mint smelling tea and taking a few pieces of the bread. He had forgotten how modest camp food was. What he wouldn’t give to be able to summon her some _real_ food. Something that actually tasted good.

She accepted the tea gratefully. “I didn’t realize how cold I was.”

Faster than he realized, Dara grabbed one of the blankets and wrapped it around her shoulders. He moved in closer enveloping the warmth of his body around her. A tremble went down her spine and she sighed. 

“Thank you.”

Dara held out the flatbread. “You should eat.”

“I have no appetite,” Nahri murmured. “I’ll try tomorrow.”

He frowned, letting his chin rest on her shoulder. “Nahri, please do not challenge me on this. You need to eat,” he pleaded. “You know better than anyone that the stress alone is not healthy for you during pregnancy, much less starving yourself.”

Nahri exhaled again and reluctantly accepted the flatbread with her free hand. “I’d actually forgotten for a moment,” she muttered. “It’s just still so early.”

She took a begrudging bite of the food, Dara rubbed her shoulders gently, his forehead creased in concern.

“What did you two talk about tonight?”

“More of the same,” Nahri said flippantly. “Cairo, my practice. She talked some about her’s. We have a lot in common - especially with Ghassan. He was truly awful to her.”

Worry burned in Dara’s chest. Nahri knew she couldn’t trust this woman, she knew that something was wrong… but this sympathy, this camaraderie… could it warp Nahri? Could the desire to have a mother corrupt her?

_Stop wondering. Just ask._

Dara cleared his throat hesitantly. “Nahri… I do not wish to insult you but I am concerned she is trying to manipulate you.”

To Dara’s surprise, Nahri barked out a muffled laugh. “Dara, she is a _mark._ Creator, I always have to remind myself that you are too handsome to also have common sense.”

“You make me sound like the emir,” Dara grumbled.

Nahri stuffed the rest of the bread in her mouth and let her hand slide behind her to cup Dara’s cheek, patting it affectionately.

“I think you two are more similar than you care to admit,” she said, her words garbled by food. Nahri swallowed hard and resumed delicately drinking her tea. “Both of you are attractive, both of you are charming, both of you love wine almost as much as you love Nahids…”

Dara blanched. “There are many charming, attractive Daevas who love wine and Nahids… So the parallels you have drawn between me and the spoiled sandfly are very common.”

“You’re going to have to get along with him if we’re to find a way out of this, Darayavahoush,” Nahri chided. “I suggest you start using what little you have in common to bond.”

Dara let out a disgruntled groan then quickly looked to see if he had woken Tamima. She still slept soundly in the soft glow of the firelight. He realized that if he was to train these men properly, it meant his time with Tamima would be severely diminished. No more long days playing in the trees or riding horseback with her across the sandy plains. Time with her would be cut short - at least for a while.

“She will miss her time with you,” Nahri remarked quietly. 

“And I will miss my time with her.”

“Once we’re out of this, Afshin, you’ll have your playmate back,” she chuckled. “Maybe even two.”

“And of my wife?” grinned Dara, his breath hot on her neck. “Will she miss my company?”

“That’s not even a question, Afshin. You are the only one qualified to match my barbed tongue.”

Dara felt his cheeks warm. A wicked smile was on her lips, she looked at Dara out of the corner of her eye.

“And do you recall just how… needy I was during my first pregnancy?”

Dara chuckled. She’d been practically insatiable. He had even grown concerned that he had lost stamina as the years had passed. Then she’d taught him about hormone levels and the rest was history. 

“If I recall I became quite ‘needy’ myself…” he smirked. “How am I to focus on training these men knowing that back at camp you are waiting?”

“I don’t know, Afshin, but I _do_ know it is fortunate Tamima has an uncle now. Perhaps he can help us afford some alone time.”

Dara blinked. He hadn’t thought about it but he was now Jamshid’s brother in law. When they were free of this, he imagined the young Pramukh would be ecstatic. He’d always held both Nahri and Dara in high regard and now he was related to them. He imagined with a smile that he and Jamshid would be spending much more time together consequently.

_If you make it out of this alive._

Dara forced the bitter reality to the back of his mind and instead held Nahri tighter to him. 

“You have a brother now.”

“I suppose I do,” Nahri mused. “You tried to marry me to him.”

Dara groaned. “I was not aware he was a secret Nahid.”

“Yes, I’ve come to realize you are not as knowledgeable as you lead people to believe.”

“Well, I know this,” Dara said, taking Nahri’s empty cup and placing it back behind them in the corner of the tent. He pressed a kiss just behind her ear. “You need to sleep.”

Nahri huffed at him. Dara had to bite back a laugh at her irritated expression. Over a decade after they met and any time he frustrated her she looked like the stubborn twenty-year-old thief from Cairo. He loosened his grip allowing her to lay on her side.

“I forgot how infuriatingly overbearing you were when I was pregnant.”

He allowed himself a chuckle this time, tucking loose strands of curls behind her ears and pulling the wool blanket farther up on her shoulder. She closed her eyes and he shifted over to his mat on the other side of Tamima.

“I apologize, my thief,” he said - not at all sorry. “But if I recall you weren’t infuriated by any massages, meals, or more unspeakable services I provided our last go…”

Nahri opened her eyes, they glinted wickedly as she smirked at him and he found himself quite eager to taste her lips.

But it would have to wait. The road ahead of them was long and to even set foot upon it, they would both need to rest. 

So it was with a reluctant sigh that Dara waved his hand and extinguished the orb’s flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Irtemiz is perhaps my favorite side character - we don't learn much about her but she is just one of those characters that kinda sticks for me. I mean, she's part of Dara's biggest arc where *SPOILERS FOR EOG* he disobeys Manizeh to rescue her. That's one of the first times he directly disobeys his Banu Nahida! I'm curious though, who is your favorite side character?


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Dara's perspective: Life in Manizeh's camp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get yourself a snack or snuggle up. This is a long one!

“I would give anything to have a glass of wine right now,” Muntadhir muttered to Dara. “You lost all of your slave magic when Nahri made you mortal, correct? Even the ability to conjure food and beverage?”

Dara turned his eyes from the field of recruits practicing archery to Muntadhir shooting him a look. He snorted in response.

“Of course, I forgot that you do not joke. My apologies.”

“I ‘joke,’ emir. Simply not about my time as a slave and not while I’m supposed to be working with my men.”

“Well, I’m a spoiled Qahtani. I have no concept of ‘working,’” Muntadhir countered. He leaned closer to Dara, lowering his voice, “Besides, are we really going to put our all into training them if we are just going to leave?”

“By the Most High, Muntadhir, keep your mouth shut until we get back to camp,” Dara said through gritted teeth.

Jamshid jogged over from the recruits to join Dara and Muntadhir. “They’ve all come a long way in three weeks. Especially Irtemiz, Afshin. You’ve really made progress there.”

Dara felt a familiar sense of pride rise in his chest. Irtemiz had become very promising with a bow in a very short amount of time. The first week he had certainly seen what Irtemiz had meant when she’d mentioned her poor aim. The second week she was hitting the target, but her bad posture was making her miss. Now, at the end of the third week, she was sinking arrow after arrow into the dummy’s chest. 

“She is very willing to learn. It makes all the difference,” Dara said. 

“I had no idea you were so patient though, Darayavahoush,” Muntadhir remarked. “Jamshid is right, you are a good leader.”

“Praise from the emir. I am overwhelmed with pride…” Dara said flatly.

Jamshid and Muntadhir both chuckled, Dara fought off a smile of his own. He had to admit, their company was pleasant. Dara hadn’t realized how much he actually enjoyed seeing his recruits improve under his guidance or even making his fellow men laugh. He had spent so much time wallowing in the regret of his past, he hadn’t stopped to appreciate what little good there had been. Good memories of his former life came to him in flashes. Like when he’d seen Hierapolis again with Nahri and recalled his father taking him there. Or when he’d walked the outer walls of Daevabad and remembered the days of his childhood playing with the Nahids. 

He may not have been a good person fourteen hundred years ago, but there were good moments.

Dara swallowed the lump in his throat, eager to change the subject from Muntadhir’s admiration. “I may let them end a little earlier today. They’ve certainly earned it, training day and night.”

“You’re the Afshin,” shrugged Muntadhir examining his nails. “I may stay behind. Practice a little more.”

Muntadhir’s voice was timid. Dara had learned that the emir was quite talented with a bow himself, though not as talented with a khanjar or any of the zulfiqars that the camp managed to steal. It seemed to bring him peace and that, Dara could understand. In fact, the Afshin had discovered he and Muntadhir had much more in common than he anticipated.

That said, tonight was one of the rare opportunities they had to plan in private. “They” being Muntadhir, Nahri, Dara, and Jamshid. This evening Manizeh would be experimenting in her tent and yesterday Kaveh had left on a secret assignment. Having the two occupied meant the four conspirators would have privacy. Something that was in small supply.

“Just do not forget that we are meeting tonight at-“

“-The cliffside for dinner, Afshin. I recall,” drawled Muntadhir. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Dara announced to the group they could head back to camp early. All were thrilled aside from Irtemiz who wanted to stay and continue to practice. Muntadhir had said he didn’t mind the company so the two stayed behind with the targets, assuring the Afshin that they would bring them back to camp.

Dara went straight to Manizeh’s tent when they returned. As usual, Nahri was working with her learning various healing techniques. Tamima sat patiently in the corner knocking together some wooden toys one of the men in the camp had carved. 

There were six children for Tamima to play with and while Nahri’s aide offered to supervise an outing in the fields, Dara and Nahri both declined any invitations that put Tamima out of their sight. The ifrit roamed the camp and while Manizeh assured they meant no harm, Dara and Nahri had anecdotal proof they actually did. They’d attempted to go against Manizeh’s orders before and there was no reason that would have changed now.

The moment Tamima looked up to see her father, her dark eyes widened and sparked with delight. She screeched happily and clambered to her feet, stumbling across the tent. 

Dara knelt allowing her to throw her arms around his neck. Her embrace broke Dara’s heart. She should not be here, in a soldier's camp, huddled in the corner of a tent. She should be out in the sun with other children in their town. 

“If you run the thread through water with pearl dust, it will seal the wound without a scar,” Manizeh explained to Nahri.

“And that’s specifically if the wound is cursed, yes?” 

Manizeh nodded at Nahri. “Yes. Otherwise, you could do fine to mend it on your own.”

Dara tried to mask his contempt. He was grateful that Nahri was receiving the training she deserved, but the circumstances made him wary. Nahri was a skilled actress though. She played the part of a dutiful and dedicated daughter well. It was no mystery that Manizeh had not grown wise to their planning. 

“Then it is a good idea to have much of this stocked for the battle. Not that it will do much for a zulfiqar wound,” Nahri muttered.

Especially when she made remarks like that.

Stated her plans for the battle. Fabricated scenarios. There were many instances where Dara’s heart leaped in his throat at their conversations. She would even fool him.

Then would come their meetings with Jamshid and Muntadhir where she would divulge every detail, instantly restoring his faith. 

Jamshid, on the other hand, seemed less enthusiastic. He was against the assault on Daevabad, this much was evident. That said, he spent much of their conversations presenting ideas for appealing to Manizeh’s humanity over discussing plans to deceive her. 

But "appealing" to Manizeh was unpredictable and deception was safe.

It would only take one look at Tamima and a squeeze of his hand by Nahri to get Jamshid to acquiesce. If neither of those worked, Muntadhir got the job done with ease, reminding him that Manizeh had ripped open the happy life they’d made for themselves without a second thought. That a true mother would not take away their child’s happiness for any reason. Manizeh may have humanity, but that did not mean there was hope.

“You’re back early, Afshin,” Manizeh remarked, wiping her hands on her apron. “I take it training went well?”

Dara stood, hiking Tamima up on his hip. He fought off the sneer threatening to creep onto his lips and instead nodded - ever the dutiful soldier.

“Yes, Banu Nahida, they are coming along well.”

“That is good news,” she mused. “Does that mean battle plans are ready to be drawn? The ifrit are offering to summon ghouls if we can find a way to get them into the city.”

“Within the month we should be able to draw up plans.”

“Within the month?” repeated Manizeh. “So if I were able to request the Marid’s help to get us into Daevabad by next month, your men would be battle-ready then?”

Dara’s eyes flickered to Nahri. Her face was unreadable. He wished lying came so easily to him. He tried to match Nahri’s expression.

“Yes, I should say so, Banu Nahida.”

“That is good to hear, Afshin,” Manizeh said with a pleasant smile. She turned to Nahri, gingerly touching her shoulder. “I’ll let you go clean up for supper. Why don’t you take tomorrow to rest?”

“I’d like that,” Nahri replied. She removed her apron and joined Dara to leave the tent.

He could practically taste the relief of being away from Banu Manizeh.

“Oh, Afshin,” Manizeh said.

Dara froze in his tracks, closing his eyes to gather himself.

“Yes, Banu Nahida,” he said, turning.

“Could I have a word? Privately. Just a few moments,” she said politely, not looking up from the smoking pot on her workbench.

Wordlessly, Dara passed Tamima to Nahri, his teeth clenched. He tried to disregard the concern in Nahri’s eyes that did nothing for his nerves and instead gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. She took his meaning and exited the tent.

With his arms folded behind his back, Dara walked to Manizeh’s workbench. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and in that moment Dara could make out a bit of Nahri in her features. 

“Why do you love my daughter, Darayavahoush?”

Dara blinked, surprised by the question. It was typical enough to ask of the man who your daughter was married to, but in the middle of a war camp before a rebellion while concocting potions seemed strange.

It felt peculiar to be asked too. Like he had been caught. As though the Banu Nahida had caught an Afshin in bed with her daughter. Sleeping with her personal guard. A scandal.

Manizeh raised a brow at his silence.

“I apologize,” Dara said, fumbling for words. He’d never really considered why he loved Nahri - he simply had. “I’m afraid that my answer is not so complex. Your daughter is very clever and I enjoy her company.”

Manizeh tilted her head to the side, the corner of her lip hitching up. “I see,” she remarked, wafting the purple smoke away from her pot. She sprinkled in a few dried leaves from a dish and the mixture sizzled. “And it is not because you are an Afshin and she is a Nahid?”

Dara felt struck. “Pardon?”

“We won’t play games, Darayavahoush. The Afshins served the Nahids. They had great respect for them. It would only make sense that the allure of my daughter for you was her ancestry.”

He bristled at the suggestion. “Banu Nahri’s appeal to me goes beyond that of her blood, my Banu Nahida.”

“Very well. Don’t be so offended at the suggestion. I have no qualms of an Afshin and Nahid being married. It’s quite a romantic story,” Manizeh said, her voice soft with amusement. “So what do you make of me then, Afshin? By traditional standards, and as you keep repeating, I am the Banu Nahida, am I not?”

“You are the most well-practiced and senior Nahid,” Dara said with a nod.

He hadn’t needed to lie so far. Aside from having a mildly uncomfortable encounter with his mother in law, this conversation was perhaps more professional than diabolical. 

“So that would mean that any order of mine would supersede any request of my daughter’s, would it not?” Manizeh’s voice was cool, her eyes shrewdly observing him. 

It would seem she was not entirely sold on Nahri’s loyalty or Dara’s for that matter. 

You only need to speak the truth...

“Yes, an Afshin would carry out the orders of the Banu Nahida over all else,” he said plainly. 

Manizeh fanned the smoke towards her face, inhaling deeply. She nodded at him, the severe expression on her face softening.

“I’m glad to know an Afshin’s loyalty can still be counted upon,” she remarked. “Go now, Afshin. Enjoy dinner with your wife and child.”

Trying to pay more attention to the fact that Manizeh seemed pleased and less that she had referred to Nahri as “wife” and not her daughter, Dara offered a low bow and exited the tent.

A heavy weight lifted from his shoulders - the tightness in his chest loosening.

That night, Dara, Nahri, Jamshid, and Muntadhir dined together on the cliffside as planned. They avoided the patches of snow and damp grass by sitting on two large logs serving as benches. The evening was chilly but the small fire they had pitched and the bowls of stew left little to be desired in the way of warmth.

Tamima sloppily tilted her bowl into her mouth and delighted in Dara grumpily wiping the sticky remains from the corners of her mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

“This is the last time, I mean it,” Dara sneered as he gruffly dabbed the corners of Tamima’s lips. 

She giggled - as she always did - at his stern expression and disobeyed. Her mouth again ringed with broth. 

Dara truly did not mind. The cheer it brought to their small group was well worth his soggy sleeve and it was a relief to see she was still unaware of the situation they were in. 

Muntadhir watched their interaction with a smirk, but Dara could see a longing in his gaze. He knew the look well. Muntadhir was wondering if this was something he could one day have. Something he hoped to have. For now, though, the emir was content with being considered an unofficial uncle. 

It felt strange to Dara, though he wasn’t entirely displeased. He resisted the urge to teach Tamima to call him “Uncle Sandfly” and instead buttoned his lip. The day he’d discovered Muntadhir making her laugh in his tent, Dara had found it easy to change his tune. If Tamima liked Muntadhir he could tolerate him and his incessant talking.

“Slow down or your stomach will hurt darling,” Nahri cautioned Tamima. 

Tamima nodded and slurped slowly instead. The evening was getting away from them - the sun was setting and they still had plotting to do. 

But this feeling of normalcy. This brief moment of relaxation. It was something they were all starved for.

Just as Dara would with any of his men, he decided to let the group enjoy this moment. They’d earned it after all. Scheming could wait a few minutes more.

“ _Darling_ ,” Muntadhir said with a grin, his eyes on Nahri. “I’d sooner a rukh lose its feathers than the quick-witted shafit I met fifteen years ago call someone ‘darling.’”

Nahri shot him a look. “You’ll forgive me my softness for my daughter, Mundtadhir.”

“He’s just jealous that for once someone wasn’t interested in falling in love with him,” Jamshid snorted. “No one has rejected him quite so openly as you.”

“It sounds as though he was past due for rejection if you want my opinion,” Dara muttered with a sly grin. “And besides, she had a much more attractive alternative.”

Muntadhir barked a laugh and shook his head. “My, my, I had no idea the Afshin was so self-aware.”

“So you agree?” Jamshid said, arching a brow.

Dara noted how similar he and Nahri looked actually. The quirked eyebrow a family trait it seemed.

“I did before,” Muntadhir corrected. “Now that he is mortal he is quite hideous.”

Dara let his wooden spoon drop in his bowl and scowled at the emir. “I used the phrase ‘more attractive’ in the most general sense,” he drawled. “Meaning in every aspect I was simply better than you.”

“Of course. It only adds to your allure that you are so blissfully unaware of your looks…”

“So you _do_ think he’s handsome,” Jamshid grinned.

Dara shook his head. The topic of his looks was as always, a sore subject. It had only brought him pain… until he’d met Nahri.

He glanced over at his wife who spooned the last of her stew into her mouth and sighed contentedly. Dara glanced at her still flat stomach with a frown. He felt very helpless during this pregnancy. Where he’d been able to assist with food or massage or simply his attentiveness last time, he was now limited in resources, stamina, and time.

Dara held his bowl of stew out to her - still half full as he’d spent most of the dinner engaging with Tamima and the emir. “Have the rest of mine.”

Nahri grimaced. “I’ve had plenty and you need your strength.”

Dara shook his head. “I’m no longer hungry and as you say, it is ‘still early,’ is it not? We should take precautions,” he said sternly. “Please. Eat.”

Nahri accepted the bowl reluctantly. “I won’t finish it. Just a few bites.”

A small wave of satisfaction washed over Dara giving him momentary relief. He’d been able to help in some way.

“So,” Muntadhir said, taking a swig of his small cup of wine. “Shall this second one be named Jamshid now? He _is_ your brother.”

Jamshid smacked Muntadhir’s shoulder, pursing his lips.

Nahri half-smiled. “No. If it is a boy he will be named after a dear friend.”

Dara’s stomach flipped. It made his heart swell that Nahri was still set on Khayzur being their newest child’s namesake.

“Well, perhaps the third one then. It’s a handsome name after all. Better than Darayavahoush…”

Dara rolled his eyes, taking a drink from his own cup of wine. Irritating as the emir may be, they were lucky to have him. He brought them much needed levity in moments they’d rather be despondent. His carefree attitude could certainly be attributed to his formerly lavish lifestyle - though Dara had assumed the lack of such a life would leave him bitter, he had indeed risen to the occasion. 

“Done!” Tamima said, proudly holding out her bowl. 

“You are not,” Dara murmured reaching into his satchel. He removed a small pouch of winter berries he had picked off the trail and held them out in front of her. “Aye, you will eat them slowly, yes?”

“Yes,” Tamima beamed.

Dara felt himself practically melt - he was unable to suppress a smile handing the bag over. Tamima dug her tiny hand inside and carefully consumed one of the berries. 

She tottered over to a rock that she appeared to find amusing a few paces away.

“Tamima, no farther, ya?” Nahri called.

“Ya!” the toddler yelled back, now walking in circles around the rock and stuffing berries in her mouth.

Dara half expected the emir to crack a joke about how he was displeased the Afshin hadn’t brought enough for all of them or how soft the warrior had become, but he was silent. 

Jamshid set his bowl down on the damp grass and leaned his elbows on his knees, his eyes were distant. “We can’t let her invade Daevabad. It will be a massacre.”

“On which side?” Muntadhir said with a mirthless smile. “We’ve got forty men and an empty promise from the ifrit to help us.”

“Do not forget that she wishes to involve the marid to get the ifrit passage into the city,” Dara interjected. “The city will have them to contend with as well.”

“The marid are a tall order and we all know it. Even Manizeh knows it. No marid, no ifrit. No ifrit, no ghouls. Without that army, my father has as good as already defeated the rebellion.”

_So we lead our men into slaughter?_

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Nahri said warily. “She’s working on something. A weapon. I don’t know what it does but I help her with it every day.”

“Afshin, you’ve seen a Nahid rebellion. Any idea what it could be that she’s working on?” asked Jamshid.

Dara stared wistfully over the cliffside at the treetops. It could be any number of things, but his experience with the Nahid’s using potions as anything more than dosing poisons was scanty. Those poisons, however, had horrifying effects. Melting Daeva organs and burning people from the inside out. Perfumes that made their victim’s limbs fall off or their lungs shrivel and pour out of their mouth. But they had only been used to poison traitors or enemies on a small scale.

However, like the ifrit, medicine had advanced over those fourteen hundred years. There was no telling what having over three decades of nothing but time had taught Manizeh.

“Nahid potions had nightmarish effects on a person to person basis, but I never saw an attack on an entire city.” He lowered his voice for Tamima’s sake. “But that does not mean Manizeh hasn’t had time to practice for a larger-scale attack.”

The four grew silent. Manizeh was smart, this much they knew. She would not plan to march into battle in a month’s time if she did not know what she was doing. 

“She wants my father's head, does she not?” Muntadhir finally said. “Perhaps she could have me act as an assassin. We could convince her that I could gain access to him privately and get her that seal.”

“Your father would not welcome you back with open arms after you deceived him. He’d have you stripped of weapons and locked away. There is no telling when you’d get the opportunity and Manizeh will not be patient,” Jamshid said. “But a lone assassin is not a bad idea. She can’t say no to a plan that saves her resources and still puts her in power.”

“So we _are_ to win her Daevabad?” Nahri said skeptically. 

“No, I didn’t say that,” Jamshid corrected. “I said a lone assassin wasn’t a bad idea. She allows one of us to enter Daevabad and we can warn the guard of her attack. Tell them her location. Put an end to this whole, mad plan.”

Dara’s stomach turned at the thought of betraying a Nahid. It was impulsive and wrong and something he had thought he had shed long ago. But apparently, it still lurked within him. The fear of not being a good Afshin. Of disobeying orders of the Banu Nahida. A shiver went down his spine.

_Manizeh is not your Banu Nahida. Nahri is._

He kept repeating the thought, but by Afshin standard, Manizeh was the more practiced and the eldest.

_Nahri is your Banu Nahida. She made you mortal._

It was true. Had Manizeh accomplished such a feat? Nahri was surely more talented even with less experience having made a slave mortal. Then again… she’d only done it with the aid of his magic.

_Nahri has treated hundreds of patients while Manizeh has been experimenting in exile. She is the true Banu Nahida._

But Manizeh-

_Nahri is your Banu Nahida! You are her Afshin._

He was her Afshin. This was not a debate. Dara was disgusted at the internal war that had waged within him about whether to serve his wife - the woman who loved him despite his crimes, who soothed his worried mind, who’d given him a life with her, children, a place to call home - and her mother, a woman he barely knew that he had a distinctly bad feeling about.

It was high time he disregarded duty and listened to his gut. He needed to prove himself. He was better than the Scourge.

“I will go,” Dara said. “Jamshid will be arrested and executed for kidnapping the emir the moment Ghassan lays eyes on him. Muntadhir will be confined to his quarters. I am the only option.”

“And me?” Nahri gawked. “I’m pregnant, not dead. I can do it.”

Dara turned to her, a fierce look in his eyes. He grabbed Nahri’s hand. “I will not risk you, Nahri,” he said, eyes locking with hers. “And besides, neither will Manizeh. She will accept me taking on such a mission over any of you. She will want her son and daughter alive to rule at her side, and I’m certain Manizeh will need the emir for political reasons. I’m disposable to her.”

“But you are not, Afshin. She long prayed for you. She’d much rather send one of your men to do the job,” Jamshid said insistently.

Dara shook his head. “None of my men will be able to gain access to Ghassan as I can and none of them are quite so deadly.” He offered his now glum-looking companions a solemn smile. “Manizeh prayed for my return to use me for such a task. I am the only choice.”

Silence fell over them and Dara noted that even Muntadhir appeared somewhat depressed. He turned his gaze to Tamima who was trotting around in a circle still eating the berries just a stone’s throw away. Enough to be out of earshot.

“Afshin, you can deliver such news to my father but that does not mean he won’t have you imprisoned or executed. You got lucky last time you came to Daevabad. You had Nahri and she was very evidently pregnant. He couldn’t have harmed you without an uprise. I should know - he told me,” Muntadhir said. He looked at Dara, all teasing vanished from his face. “But this time you will bring with you news of a rebellion. It is likely he will blame you for it and see you dead. It’s an opportunity for him.”

“So it’s to be a one way trip for my husband then,” Nahri said stiffly. 

“Nahri, it is a one-way ticket for any of us,” Jamshid said.

Nahri’s eyes watered and with a curse, she set aside her stew and stalked off towards the cliff’s edge. 

Dara exhaled at her retreating form. She stopped and folded her arms, her hunched shoulders a great indication of her fury.

He turned to Jamshid and Muntadhir. “Keep an eye on Tamima. I will speak to her.”

The two only nodded, lost for words. 

When Dara reached Nahri at the cliff’s edge she was hastily brushing away tears with the heel of her palm. She looked at him, eyes blazing with heartache and fury.

“So that’s it? Fifteen years with you and I’m supposed to be content, am I?” 

Dara fidgeted nervously, not sure how to breach the topic. The first time Nahri had wept, fearing for his life before he departed on a dangerous mission, he had felt surprised. Nobody mourned an Afshin. Afshins went on dangerous missions, sometimes they returned, and sometimes they didn’t. It was expected.

When he’d asked her to leave him to the ifrit in their home, just two years ago, she’d wept then too. He hadn’t allowed himself a moment to consider how her tears made him feel that night. At that time, he had had to keep his courage. 

But now they had time to mourn. Not much, but still time. 

“I… had hoped for more time as well.”

“You said we would grow old together, Darayavahoush,” Nahri sniffed. “I’ve found five silver hairs. I’ve got three wrinkles. I’m not old yet. Neither are you!”

The corner of Dara’s lip hitched up. “That is not entirely true, no matter how it may appear.”

For a moment he thought Nahri may smile, but she quickly composed herself to glare at him again. He took a step closer to her. There was no perfect speech, no right words. So he decided to be honest.

“You know, you’ve mourned me four times now. I’m still not accustomed to someone being surprised that I, an Afshin, am walking to my demise,” he muttered. “Perhaps my people were more... reluctant to replace me in the ranks, but I highly doubt anyone wept that they would miss me.”

“All I heard just now was that you would be putting me through this a fourth time.”

Dara grimaced arriving before her and gently touching her chin to turn her face to his.

“I’ve come back every time, have I not?” he tried. “Perhaps I shall do it once more for you. You underestimate me often, you know?”

Nahri closed her eyes, tears rolling freely down her cheeks. Dara threaded his fingers through hers, taking both her hands. 

“But even so, you would not be alone in this world. You have a brother now,” Dara tried. 

“You are still trying to replace yourself with Jamshid then?”

Dara laughed at the revulsion in Nahri's voice. The corner of her lip twitched upwards, but once again, the frown returned full force. He squeezed her hands tighter and the tears continued to roll.

“Tamima did not have enough time with you,” Nahri said, her voice trembling. “You did not have enough time with her.”

“Oh, Nahri.” Dara smiled solemnly. “Will you count me out so soon? You forget how much I have to fight for. I am extremely motivated to make it back to you, to Tamima, to… whoever they may be,” he said, placing a hand on her belly. “I have never, in any life I’ve lived, had more to fight for than I do now.”

Nahri took a deep shuddering breath and cupped his face in her hands. Her dark eyes blazed into him and Dara felt as though he were burning. 

“You will try your hardest to make it home to us? Damn all else?”

“Damn all else.”

Her brows knitted together. “That is an order for my Afshin.”

“And an Afshin obeys all orders from their Nahid, my Banu Nahida.”

_She is my Banu Nahida._

The next day Kaveh returned to camp, but he was not alone. In his company was a lone, very angry Geziri warrior. 

When Dara asked the Grand Wazir the purpose of this kidnapping, he had only said: “for Manizeh.” 

Manizeh called for Dara, Jamshid, Nahri, the ifrit, and their men to join her for a demonstration in the woods. Muntadhir stayed behind with Tamima citing he was pleased that he hadn’t been called upon.

Dara’s heart had fallen into his stomach as Manizeh led them into the trees, the Geziri warrior's hands were bound with rope, his wrists tight in Kaveh’s grasp. Nothing good could come of this.

He tried to distract himself, replaying the plan they’d made last night in his head. Watching it succeed in his mind’s eye. Starting with Muntadhir taking Tamima into hiding, then his evening patrol with Jamshid and Qandisha. Then finally, meeting with Manizeh and proposing his plan to assassinate Ghassan alone. Creator, he hoped she would take the bait. That she would accept his proposal.

Jamshid was convinced she would, but Dara was not so trusting.

They arrived in a small clearing with only the moonlight overhead to illuminate the scene before them. Manizeh, ever the showman, took to the center and held up her palms gesturing for the group to stop before her. Her gaze shifted to Dara.

“Afshin, please assist Kaveh in securing the Geziri to that tree.”

Dara obediently crossed the clearing and assisted Kaveh in tying the Geziri soldier with the remaining length of rope from his binds, to a slim tree. His stony demeanor became panicked and Dara felt his stomach lurch. He couldn’t imagine - or rather he didn’t want to imagine - what Manizeh had in store.

When Dara turned back to Manizeh she only nodded and gestured for him and Kaveh to return to the group. As he walked back over to Nahri he couldn’t help but note the sickening smile on Qandisha’s lips. He quickly averted his gaze not wanting to pay her any more attention than necessary.

“We cannot give the Geziri a chance to strike back and we cannot allow Ghassan any opportunity to use his seal. We cannot afford to fail in any aspect. One mistake and our whole mission is lost,” Manizeh said somberly. 

Dara heard the worried whispers of the recruits behind them followed by a loud “shush” from Irtemiz.

“But none of you need worry,” Manizeh continued with a pleasant smile. “Because with the help of my daughter, the likelihood of our victory is as good as guaranteed.” Manizeh removed a small vial from the pocket of her abaya. 

Dara squinted into the darkness trying to make out what was inside. However, he didn’t have to see the contents to know that any weapon of a Nahid was a dangerous one. 

He glanced at Nahri out of the corner of his eye. Her gaze was wary and her lips pursed. Even as Manizeh’s assistant she was just as in the dark as the rest of them, it seemed.

Manizeh removed the lid of the vial and slowly a coppery dust slithered out from inside, making its way towards the Geziri warrior and the Geziri warrior only. He struggled against his binds, also sensing that whatever this was, it was not good. 

Dara surreptitiously looked over his shoulder at his men trying to gauge their reactions. Irtemiz’s jaw was locked and Gushtap’s eyes were wide. Dara realized that they truly had no idea who their leader was.

When Dara turned back to the scene before him, the glimmering dust had wrapped around the copper stud clasped to the Geziri’s ear - his relic. He let out a shriek of pain and Dara watched in her horror as he writhed, black blood seeping from his eyes and nose. He cried out, a horrible gurgling noise erupting from his lips.

Nahri took an instinctive step towards Dara, her shoulder touching his. He did his best to maintain a composed expression but there was no denying that what he was seeing was monstrous. 

And what was worse, Manizeh didn’t appear even remotely affected by her actions. She watched her poison work it’s magic much like Dara observed his recruits practice. 

No wonder she had not invited Muntadhir. This was how his father would be murdered. Dara wondered what the emir’s reaction would be to this news. Would he take flight to warn his baba? Dara would need to discuss what they would tell Muntadhir. 

With a final choked gasp, the Geziri man went limp - all life drained from him.

“It is not a pretty sight and I know what I am asking you to endure,” Manizeh remarked. “But someday, when you are living in Daevabad once more, heroes among your people, you won’t remember this. You’ll only remember your victory.”

Dara faced his men. They were all fairly young, but at this moment they all looked like children. Like kids awaiting their punishment. 

Dara exhaled. “Return to camp. Go to bed. We will start an hour later tomorrow.”

They all murmured a form of “Yes, Afshin” and departed. Irtemiz gave Dara a look of concern and followed the rest of the recruits into the forest, back towards camp. Dara next turned to Jamshid. He looked positively shaken. 

A paternal instinct made Dara place a comforting hand on Jamshid’s shoulder. “We’ll discuss what to say to Muntadhir. No secrets,” he said quietly. 

“Afshin, Nahri, Jamshid,” Manizeh called. “Please stay.”

Dara felt Nahri’s fingers intertwine with his. The three of them joined Manizeh and Kaveh in the center of the clearing. Manizeh’s expression was that of a mother who had caught their child in the act of doing something embarrassing.

“I know that what you just saw was probably unexpected and more gruesome than you anticipated,” she said with a wry smile. “I am sorry if it caught you all off guard.”

No one spoke - silence hung in the air. 

Finally, Nahri spoke. “It is a very painful way to go, but if that is the price to get Ghassan of the throne it is a small one.”

Manizeh nodded and Dara seized the opportunity to pitch the plan to Manizeh. “I’d like to volunteer an alternative after seeing this demonstration, Banu Nahida.”

Manizeh arched a brow, at her side Kaveh looked almost punched.

“We can abandon the idea of using the ifrit and contacting the marid - we save our men.” Dara swallowed and pushed himself to continue despite the pounding of his heart against his ribs. “Send me as a lone assassin. I will deliver the poison to Ghassan, collect the seal and then we secure your position on the throne.”

To Dara’s surprise, Kaveh seemed to approve of the plan. Dara presumed he was grateful at the prospect of the woman he loved being in less danger. All eyes were on Manizeh now, awaiting her response. She looked to Jamshid.

“Son, I recommend that you see that the emir removes his relic,” she said quietly. Manizeh gestured to the floating remains of the copper dust. “This will soon spread. It seeks out the copper relics his people wear.” 

The group froze and judging by Manizeh’s mildly disappointed expression, this was the reaction she had expected from them. To Dara’s surprise, it was Kaveh who spoke next.

“Manizeh, are you saying that you intend to release this… experiment you’ve created upon the people of Daevabad?”

Dara’s jaw tightened. He imagined the copper dust sweeping the streets, through the quarters and filling the bazaar. Hundreds of people - children - clawing at their skin and cried out in agony. Death and destruction were how Manizeh intended to gain power? It was worse than Dara had feared.

_She is no better than Ghassan._

Manizeh gently cupped Kaveh’s cheek. “My darling, we cannot risk losing any of our people - we cannot risk failing to take the city from Ghassan. We need the ifrit and their ghouls and this mixture to guarantee victory.”

Dara clenched his jaw tighter fighting off the fury that seemed to emanate from him. Nahri squeezed his hand - a firm reminder that he had a part to play. The part of an obedient servant - dedicated body and soul to the Banu Nahida.

“Manizeh, you will be the queen of a ghost town. Queen of the dead…” Kaveh said, his voice barely a whisper.

Manizeh glowered at Kaveh, he seemed to shrink back. Dara could see it in the Grand Wazir’s eyes. He did not recognize this woman - the woman he loved, the mother of his child. She had become someone else. No longer the savior of the exiled and the unwanted - but a woman desperate for power and consumed by revenge. Dara had little doubt that the ifrit had some say in this judging by how she hadn’t asked them to remain.

“We take the men into battle, we visit the marid with the ifrit and request passage into Daevabad, we unleash the copper dust on our enemies, we win back our city,” Manizeh listed casually. She turned her stare back to Dara, “So, no, Afshin. You will not act alone. You will lead your recruits into Daevabad, with or without the ifrit. That is the beauty of the copper dust. It is a victory in the palm of our hand.” At the uncomfortable quiet that lingered between them, Manizeh stood up straighter, her eyes shrewd. “Am I understood?”

“Yes, Banu Nahida,” Dara replied. “We leave in a month then?”

“Three weeks from tomorrow,” Manizeh said with a nod. She smiled warmly at Jamshid. “Go to your emir. Please assure him that he is safe. I would not do anything to ruin your happiness, my son.”

Taking this as a dismissal for them all, Dara, Nahri and Jamshid departed. Dara noticed Jamshid was rigid with each step, his expression strained. 

Once they were out of earshot Nahri was the first to speak. “We have no other choice.”

And even though she did not specify what she was referring to, Jamshid and Dara both knew exactly what Nahri meant. Manizeh had to be stopped.

Even if it meant killing her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean parents, what are you gonna do?


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From both Nahri and Dara's perspectives: The conspirators launch their plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooo boy, we're almost done. Listen, I've really enjoyed writing this fiction and exploring how my AU fits into the canon plot, but we all know it's super satisfying to complete a project and I've got other ones I'm excited to start.

_DARA_

“You’ll go with Muntadhir. He’s going to take you to play in the coves,” Nahri said, kneeling before Tamima. 

“With water?” she asked looking up at Muntadhir. 

He looked down his nose at her with a playful grin. “Of course. We will throw the largest rocks we can find into the river. Whoever makes the biggest splash wins. Of course, that will be me.”

Tamima looked excitedly to Dara who stood in the far corner of the tent. He felt his heart sink. Was this the last time he would see her? Would the next time he met his daughter be in paradise? He set his jaw, blinking away the tears that threatened to form in his eyes.

“Baba, you coming?”

Dara joined Nahri, kneeling before their daughter. He tucked a loose curl back behind her ear. 

“I will try to join you later. First I will be going on a patrol with your uncle.”

“Jam- _sheed_ ,” Tamima enunciated.

She’d been getting better and better with every week at talking. She could say almost anything you said to her back to you, with the exception of Muntadhir who she called “emir.” 

“That’s right. Jamshid,” Dara nodded. “But afterward I will meet you there, habibti.” 

“Will you be good for Muntadhir?” Nahri asked. She cleared her throat and Dara recognized the sound. She too was on the verge of tears. “Not _too_ good, but just enough?”

“Yes.”

It was likely that this was the last time they would all be together. While Dara’s death was more likely than Nahri’s, he wouldn’t say Manizeh executing her own daughter was out of the realm of possibility. She was hungry for her revenge on Ghassan. That sort of hunger did strange things to people.

Muntadhir must have sensed the growing tension in the couple because he scooped up Tamima quickly. “Come along. I’m eager to splash you with ice-cold water, little one.”

“No!” Tamima giggled.

“Oh, yes, by the time I’m done you’ll be made of ice.”

Tamima’s laughter faded as Muntadhir exited the tent, and the next thing Dara felt was Nahri crashing into him. Her fingers clenched at his jacket, her breathing hitched. Under normal circumstances, he would have been content to hold her and let her continue crying, but right now he needed that con artist from Cairo - not his wife. Likewise, she needed Darayavahoush e-Afshin - and not her husband.

Dara gently took her face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I know you, Banu Nahida. I’ve seen you at work. You have snatched a full coin purse off of a man - you’ve stolen multiple horses. You can easily work some simple sleight of hand.”

Nahri rolled her eyes, grabbing his hands and weaving their fingers together. “I do not weep for fear, Dara. I am crying because… what if this is… what if this-“ her voice broke before she could finish. 

Dara frowned. It very well could be the end. Qandisha was strong and even with Jamshid, it could prove impossible to kill her. It would not be surprising if she managed to kill him - though she would probably leave Jamshid since he was Manizeh’s son.

“I will do everything I can to make it back to you, Nahri. Damn all else, do you remember?”

She nodded. Dara lifted her knuckles to his lips.

“You know, I’ve been counting… you are over three months along now. About four as it were,” he said offering the best smile he could muster. “So?”

“So what?” she said with a tearful grin.

He placed a hand over the small bump in between her hips. “You _know_ what, and frankly I’m disappointed I had to ask to get it out of you.”

The corner of her lip hitched up as she placed a hand over his. “Last time I checked - yesterday morning that is - you were outnumbered, Afshin.”

Dara felt his smile broaden. “I can think of a worse fate than having another girl.” He chuckled. “Hopefully this one inherits your looks.”

“Please,” she scoffed. “You’re the one with a shrine, not me. She would be luckier to inherit yours.”

“What of her name then?”

“Think on it,” Nahri said softly. “You can tell me your suggestions when you return.”

Leave it to his Banu Nahida to give him something else to fight for. 

“Alright, I will think on that matter most ardently.” 

“See that you do.”

Dara pressed his lips to her’s, then to her forehead. “I have every faith in you, little thief.”

Dara, Jamshid, and Qandisha began their evening patrol west of camp - just as planned. They walked in a silence so thick with tension that you could cut it with a knife. He wondered if he would have grown used to walking so casually alongside the ifrit had he been at this camp the same length of time as his recruits. He highly doubted it. Dara could never see himself or any self-respecting Daeva being so nonchalant in the company of those who had directly defied Suleiman.

Or tried to murder him… twice.

The bottom of Dara and Jamshid’s quivers had a small puddle of Nahid blood, soaking each arrow tip in poison for Qandisha. She wasn’t the last ifrit but Dara imagined without her leadership the remaining of her followers would be too lost without her to continue their reign of terror and torment. Or at least their organized reign.

“Are you excited for your most recent addition, Afshin? Manizeh says it will not be long till you have a second born,” Qandisha said as they strode across the purple lit plains of the mountain range.

“My family is no concern of yours.”

Qandisha let out something similar to a laugh, she smiled with pointed teeth at Jamshid. “His family,” she said mirthlessly. “Forgive my amusement, Baga-Nahid, but it always catches me off guard that the Darayavahoush I met fourteen hundred years ago has a family.”

“Is that so difficult to believe?” Jamshid said, his lips pressed in a tight line. 

“If you had seen what became of his family all those centuries ago you would understand.”

Dara’s blood boiled and he fought the urge to abort the plan and shoot Qandisha now. More than rage though, he was filled with fear. His nightmares of finding his wife and daughter dead with Tukharistani script carved into their faces resurfaced. He tried his best to keep his head but if Qandisha went on taunting him so he wasn’t sure he could control himself.

It was a shame that on this patrol of all patrols she had decided to act so outrageously. Typically she taunted the Afshin but never to such a personal degree. 

“He is my kin, ifrit, so I’d appreciate it if you treated him with some respect.”

Dara startled slightly at Jamshid's response. He wasn't exactly shy, but Dara had yet to hear him openly defy someone. 

“I answer to the Banu Nahida, not her bastard son.” Before Jamshid could fire back Qandisha pasted on a sweet smile. “But I’ll adhere to you for this patrol.”

“Is there a particular reason you’re being so unpleasant tonight?” Dara sneered. “More so than usual that is.”

Qandisha shrugged. “It is the eve of battle. I think there is a chance that the marid will drop a lake on me. I want to ensure I do not die with words left unspoken.”

Dara snorted and for a moment forgot that he was going to kill her. He tried to think of it as clinically as possible. As not an act of revenge. It was a mission. The more his heart got involved the less focus he would have.

They were a few minutes' walk from where Dara and Jamshid planned to attack. With the moment ever-nearing Dara felt adrenaline course through him. To see the light leave her cold eyes would be most gratifying.

_Keep your head._

“I will miss the camp though. I learned so much from Banu Manizeh about the Nahids and their potions - Jamshid, you’re trembling,” remarked Qandisha.

Dara looked at Jamshid out of the corner of his eye. His face, his stance, reminded him of the day they’d first met. When he had greeted the Afshin in surprise, nervous as a child.

“Perhaps it is your company that makes him so uneasy,” Dara snapped.

They were nearing the spot. Dara’s grip on his bow tightened. Jamshid’s breathing became shallow beside him.

“As I was saying,” Qandisha said airily, “I’ve learned much about the Nahids from Manizeh. Their hidden texts, their healing magic, and from all of the palm slicing for her experiments... I can recognize the scent of Nahid blood.”

Dara did not hesitate. He whirled on Qandish, bow, and arrow already drawn - Jamshid stumbling just behind him, nocking his own arrow. Blood dripped from the tip of the arrow painting the snow beneath their feet a dark shade of red.

But where Dara had been aiming at Qandisha she was no longer there.

That was fine. He had expected her to assume her smoky form and vanish like a coward. She would not fight fair when backed against the wall. 

As practiced, Jamshid and Dara stood with their backs to each other, their eyes scanning the dimly lit landscape for any sign of Qandisha. Dara could hear Jamshid’s panicked breaths behind him.

“Pramukh, focus,” Dara said, his voice calm but urgent. “Just breathe…”

There was a flurry of snow that threatened to blind Dara. He braced himself, narrowing his eyes to focus as Qandisha came into view, rusting scythe in hand. She charged at him and Dara jumped to the side, Jamshid tumbling with him. He rolled to his knees and heard Jamshid loose an arrow then frantically grasp for another. They quickly stood to their feet, once again back to back.

“Are you with me, Pramukh?” Dara called over the wind that had begun to howl.

“Y-yes. She took a swing at me though, Afshin. I don’t believe she will spare me as we thought.”

“Well, it is fortunate that we won’t be granting her that courtesy either,” grumbled Dara.

There was a cyclone of stones, snow, and dirt to their right that drew Jamshid’s attention. Dara felt his heart jump in his throat. It was a diversion.

Dara spun around just in time to see Qandisha barreling towards Jamshid who still focused on the flurry of snow. Dara let his arrow fly but Qandisha was too fast deflecting it with her scythe. In no position to be gentle, Dara shouldered Jamshid to the ground and out of Qandisha’s path. Her scythe came into contact with Dara’s arm sending black blood flying across the blanket of white snow.

“Afshin!” Jamshid gasped as he stumbled to his feet.

“I am fine,” Dara said, teeth gritted. “She is toying with us, Pramukh.”

The howling of the wind began to wane. For a moment Dara felt relief.

“Afshin, she could be heading back to camp to gather reinforcements,” Jamshid muttered.

Dara pushed aside the horror. They stood no chance against more than one of these creatures.

He acted on impulse.

“Qandisha, you will not get another opportunity like this!” he called out to the blank landscape. His pulse quickened, the sharp pain of his arm causing a buzzing noise on his ears. “You had no problem killing me fourteen hundred years ago - and now you need _help_?”

It was a feeble attempt to goad her. She may already have been gone. Still, he had to try. He would not make an orphan of his daughter.

“I think she is gone, Afshin…”

Truly? But where? Unless he knew where they were not safe. He had to get her to show herself.

“Just like before, you run. After you let Vizaresh and Aeshma die,” he tried, eyes scanning for any trace of smoke. A strangled cry of desperation climbed up his throat. “If you run I will find you myself and see that you and every last ifrit rot!”

There was the scrape of a metal scythe, a cry of horror from Jamshid... and a roar of rage from Dara.

_NAHRI_

Nahri gripped the vial of nightshade and powdered iron tightly between her knuckles. After much coordinating and conspiring Kaveh had somehow come into obtaining a single bullet. He delivered it to her with solemn reluctance. It had been rusted and damaged which had made it all the more easy to crush and grind. 

The Grand Wazir had wrestled with this plan for two weeks doing his best to convince both Jamshid and Nahri that he could change Manizeh’s mind. That he could get her to at least ensure the safety of Daevabad’s children.

Instead, his pleas for her to evacuate the innocents were met with a level of rationality that Nahri could only describe as clinically ruthless.

“Leave them to live so that their anger and resentment can fester? So they may rebel and ruin all that we worked for?”

Kaveh had delivered the statement to Nahri and Dara in the hidden cove with a trembling voice. She could still hear how he choked out the words, verbatim she could tell by how grave his tone was. 

_“We have no choice. We will have to unseat Ghassan another way.”_

What the other way may be they had no idea. They didn’t really have the luxury to plan that far ahead now. Frankly, Ghassan was an unbearable tyrant, but there were certainly other ways to rebel that didn’t involve mass genocide.

In any case, it was time for tea.

An evening tea with Kaveh and Manizeh that Nahri had arranged. The three of them were to spend some time together "as a family." Nahri had told Manizeh she was eager to know her stepfather better and Kaveh, who Nahri had learned could be a convincing liar, had agreed nonchalantly.

He waited for her now outside Manizeh’s tent. The Grand Wazir seemed to have aged overnight and Nahri couldn’t contemplate what was going through his head. He loved Manizeh - she was the mother of his son. He’d spent decades braving the odds to be at her side. And with one demonstration of how brutally calculating she could be, she had lost all of Kaveh’s loyalty. Though judging by the look in his eyes, not all of his love.

Nahri turned the vial upside down, pushing it up her sleeve with her index finger. When she served the tea to Manizeh she would slip in the poison. Daevabad would be safe.

As solemn as Kaveh was, Nahri could not bring herself to feel the same. Mother or not, she wanted Manizeh gone. Between her plot for mass murder and her thinly veiled threats towards her husband, the pragmatist in Nahri was raising flags of alarm about this woman. She recognized many aspects of Ghassan in Manizeh as well and had begun to see that the two were a well-suited match.

_She’s a mark. She’s a mark. She’s always been a mark. Today is no different._

Nahri reached Kaveh who gave her a casual bow. “Banu Nahri, good evening to you.”

“Grand Wazir.”

“And here I thought this was to be an informal visit…” Manizeh said, leaning out of the tent flap doors. “Please come inside. I’ve been looking forward to us all sitting down together.”

Nahri and Kaveh followed Manizeh into the tent. Nahri kept her breathing even and watched as Kaveh clenched and unclenched his fists behind his back. Nahri prayed that the man could remain calm. That inviting him to get Manizeh’s guard down had not been a mistake.

Nahri walked to the small stove that had a pipe funneling out of the tent’s ceiling. On it sat a kettle. The tea was already prepared. It did not matter. She just needed to serve it, not make it.

“Give it a few minutes. The tea is still steeping,” Manizeh said taking a seat at the low table that normally served as a workbench. 

Now it was dressed for tea with three tin cups and a cloth to set the steaming kettle on. 

“It’s a lavender mix I’ve perfected. Good for nerves.”

Nahri fought off the internal wave of panic and turned to face her mother. “Oh?”

“Yes, and I imagine everyone is getting quite anxious given we are on the eve of battle,” Manizeh explained. “I would like to make a larger batch for the Afshin’s men. To ensure a good night’s rest.”

Nahri gave a grateful smile. “Dara will be glad to hear it I am certain.”

_Lighten the mood. This is “tea.”_

“And I would be glad for a smaller cup for Tamima. Perhaps she’ll sleep in till a decent hour for once,” Nahri smirked.

Manizeh let out a soft laugh. “I am fortunate in that right to have missed my children’s early years. I cannot say the same of poor Kaveh.”

Nahri turned her eyes to the Grand Wazir who was smiling wanly. “I’m lucky that I had the assistance of nursemaids for Jamshid. Though he was abnormally well behaved as a child… that is until he ran away to serve in the royal guard,” he muttered shaking his head. “Thankfully Manizeh had placed the seal on him as a child. I can’t imagine what Ghassan would have done if a _Nahid_ asked to be in his son’s personal guard.”

“Beheaded him,” Manizeh cut in, her tone disgusted. She lifted her chin. “We shall see the seal lifted once the war is won. Not before.”

Nahri noted that she would have to figure out how to lift that seal. Whatever it did to hide Jamshid’s identity, it also hindered his healing abilities. Abilities she knew he was eager to put to use.

“Nahri, will you and the Afshin choose to live in Daevabad after all of this? Or do you think you’ll return to Zariaspa?” Manizeh asked.

Nahri knew it would be a mistake to say that they had not planned beyond Manizeh’s victory.

“I believe Dara would be happier to return to Daevabad. I do miss our home in Zariaspa. I’m sure Tamima misses her friends as well. But the Afshin has long wanted to return to his city and I’m sure I could practice in the palace once again,” Nahri shrugged.

“Nonsense, we’ll see the Nahid hospital rebuilt. You will practice there, where you belong.”

Nahri jolted at the words. A hospital? Her? Had this not been what she had dreamed of all her life? 

Having an infirmary of her own in a country town was one thing, running a hospital was something else entirely. Something she could only dream of.

_She is a mark and for all you know, you are one now too._

Nahri brought herself back to reality and decided it would be best to act on her initial reaction. Manizeh needed to feel secure - like she had won Nahri over. 

“I would like that very much. It is something I dreamed of in Cairo.”

“It is your birthright, daughter. Once Daevabad is ours, your loyalty will be rewarded,” Manizeh said, reaching over the table and taking Nahri’s hand in hers. 

She gave it a gentle squeeze and Nahri felt an ache she hadn’t felt in years. The yearning for a place to belong - a family.

You have a family. Protect them.

“The tea should be finished,” Manizeh muttered. “Kaveh, will you serve us?”

“Nonsense, I will take care of that,” Nahri cut in, trying to keep her voice even.

It was time. She couldn’t afford any mistakes. Nahri made sure her legs were steady and that no trembling was in her knees. She crossed to the stove, removed the kettle, and in turn, removed the top of the vial in her sleeve, letting it fall to the tent floor noiselessly.

Keeping her hand steady, Nahri knelt by the table. “There was a cafe I frequented in Cairo when I was young. The cost for tea like this was outrageous,” Nahri said with a grin. She poured the steaming tea into Manizeh’s cup and with it the vial of poison. “When I first reached Daevabad I was baffled by how much free tea I received. It was quite a luxury.”

Manizeh laughed politely as Nahri continued to pour the tea. The scent of lavender wafted up from the steam and indeed had a calming effect on Nahri. 

“Do you ever miss Cairo?” Kaveh asked curiously.

Nahri was thankful he’d finally opened his mouth. His silence was becoming dangerous.

“I do sometimes,” Nahri nodded, lifting the cup to her nose and taking another sniff. “But I am glad to be so well-traveled. However, Cairo will always have a special place in my heart.”

_Drink. It._

The poison would not be fast-acting. Paralysis would set in quickly, but death would come slowly. A small comfort to Kaveh was that it would be fairly painless.

“Were you able to practice in Cairo?” Kaveh asked.

“No, I couldn’t afford it,” Nahri said, her eyes flickering to Manizeh’s untouched cup. “I did become friends with an apothecary owner who was always keen on me marrying. I like to think he would approve of Dara.”

Manizeh still didn’t pick up her steaming cup. Nahri could see Kaveh growing anxious. 

“Amma, this tea smells amazing. Lavender and… ginger root?”

“Yes,” Manizeh nodded. “To ease any anxiety-induced nausea.” She picked up the cup and took a sniff herself. Manizeh’s eyes met Nahri’s. “You’ve got a good nose for herbs.”

Nahri shrugged trying to hide her eagerness for this to be over with. For Manizeh to take a single sip. 

“I must get that from you,” Nahri tried.

“Mmm.” Manizeh set down the teacup with a sigh. “You very well may. You see, Rustam was always very good with botany. I was not so gifted, so I trained myself to be very familiar with the scents and appearances of plants, herbs, and spices.” 

“I like the way you think,” Nahri said, taking a slurp of her tea. “Evening the odds.”

Manizeh’s smile was tight. “Indeed.”

A powerful silence was suspended in the air. Nahri struggled to keep her expression composed. She was very clearly not out of the woods.

“Kaveh, my tea - it smells a bit too strong. I’ll need to brew another batch,” Manizeh remarked. She reached over and poured the steaming contents of her cup into Kaveh’s till it was full to the brim.

Nahri fought the urge to hang her head in defeat. She could still win this game. Convince Manizeh she was behaving like a madwoman. That if anyone needed a relaxing tea, it was her. Kaveh, however, did not seem to grasp Nahri’s intent. He, in fact, stared down at the cup and Nahri could already read the thoughts going through his mind. He would drink the tea, hoping to ease Manizeh’s suspicions and praying she would follow suit. 

Kaveh was wrong. Manizeh was smarter than that. Perhaps that flicker in his eyes was Kaveh insisting that perhaps, Nahri could heal him before the poison took effect. She was not willing to take that chance.

Then there was also the fact that if Manizeh knew the cup was poisoned as Nahri suspected she did - she was willing to make her lover drink it. 

Kaveh lifted the cup to his lips, Manizeh’s gaze did not leave Nahri.

With a sigh of defeat, Nahri shut her eyes. “Kaveh, don’t drink that.” She may not be able to poison Manizeh but maybe she could talk her out of this mad plan. 

“I may not have grown up in a human apothecary but I know belladonna when I smell it.” Manizeh’s tone was clipped, but not enraged. “You were clever, slipping it in though. I did not see that.”

“Thanks,” Nahri deadpanned. 

“And I’m guessing you knew, my love?” Manizeh said, turning to Kaveh. “Were you a part of this plot?”

“I acted alone,” Nahri cut in, doing her best to appear disappointed. 

In truth, she was frantically grasping for any fragment of a plan. Right now, the plan was to make Kaveh innocent. Keep him by her side. 

“I highly doubt that,” Manizeh said with a soft shake of her head. “I’ll be surprised if your husband and my son return with Qandisha in one piece.” She turned to Kaveh and gently cupped his cheek. “And Kaveh is easily manipulated. But I am certain that he will come back to me.”

Before Nahri could tell Manizeh that she shouldn’t be so sure, Kaveh was crying into Manizeh’s shoulder. After all this time he was still weak for her. Nahri briefly wondered if she could’ve followed through in Kaveh’s shoes. Could she betray Dara? Disgusted as Nahri was at his sudden cowardice, she couldn’t bring herself to be furious with Kaveh. He was helpless to the woman he loved. 

“I am sorry,” Kaveh choked. “Manizeh, I am frightened of these plans for Daevabad. Of the blood that will be on our hands.”

“I know you are.” Her voice was warm but stern. “But you will be thankful for it later. I swear to you. We can finally be together and no longer have to hide.”

He nodded and Nahri could’ve groaned at the conviction that appeared on his face. Her last chance had been to keep Kaveh close, allowing him the opportunity to attack.

“Kaveh, prepare a space for her in the prisoner camp. See that Irtemiz brings Qandisha, the emir, Darayavahoush, and Jamshid to meet her upon their return. Ensure their daughter is out of sight.”

Kaveh’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean to do?”

“We cannot allow treachery to go unpunished,” she said simply. “Take her away now. I’ll need time to think.”

Kaveh’s gaze flickered to Nahri then back to Manizeh. For a moment, Nahri thought he might fight back. But instead, he bowed his head in submission. The situation was seemingly hopeless. They'd only made Manizeh more vicious. Her family and her lover had all tried to kill her. There was no telling what she would do next.

Now, weaponless and outnumbered, all Nahri could hope for was Dara.

Kaveh sullenly walked to Nahri gripping her hands behind her back, his expression torn. 

Nahri was not beyond trying to appeal to her mother. To wriggle her way out of trouble. “You’ll send me to the executioner then? Your own daughter?”

Kaveh paused as though hoping Manizeh would respond. He was not met with disappointment.

“Any child of mine would’ve had the decency to see such a plan through to the end - no matter the cost.”

While the remark was seemingly a jab, there was something in Manizeh’s voice that made both Kaveh and Nahri freeze. Her tone had been almost… knowing.

“Say what you mean,” Nahri spat.

“I tried to protect you,” Manizeh said, shaking her head. She inhaled deeply and met Nahri’s gaze - her eyes unwavering. “I lied. I know who your father is. But I am not your mother.”

It took Nahri no time at all to put the pieces together, but Manizeh was still happy to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, listen, don't hate me but... Manizeh and Kaveh have perhaps one of the most romantic relationships in the whole series. HEAR ME OUT - a forbidden romance right under the king's nose? A secret child? Kaveh traveling great distances to be with her for only a few night's at a time? Manizeh definitely sucks, but that relationship is soooo romantic. Especially that tiny glimpse we get where Manizeh has to leave him and Jamshid - HEART-WRENCHING


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Dara's Perspective: The months following the escape from Manizeh's camp bring many changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the last chapter!

_DARA_

The hike back to camp was long and arduous for Dara. Jamshid's good arm was wrapped over his shoulder, the other in a makeshift sling from Dara’s jacket. When Qandisha had struck, she had cut Jamshid’s upper arm to the bone in an attempt to hack off his head; and with Manizeh’s seal to hide Jamshid’s powers still in effect, there was no Nahid healing to be had.

Dara prayed that when they arrived at the camp, Nahri would be waiting in Manizeh’s tent just as they had planned. That she would be able to make short work of Jamshid’s wound and they could finally lift his seal.

By the Most High, he hoped she was safe. That Manizeh lay dead and still as stone on the floor of the tent. The idea of wishing a Nahid dead unsettled Dara but only slightly. Dara was ashamed that he had to keep reminding himself that Nahri was his Banu Nahida, not Manizeh.

Not to mention, he did not serve anyone anymore - no matter how heavy the ancestral burden weighed upon him.

Jamshid's ragged breathing slowed. He had lost a lot of blood.

“Pramukh, the emir and Banu Nahida will be displeased with me if I return you dead.”

“You think… I will die?” he panted.

Dara gritted his teeth - he wasn’t sure. He’d seen men survive worse - he’d seen men die of less.

“Not if you keep talking.” Dara hiked Jamshid’s good arm up higher on his shoulder so his feet didn’t drag as much. “We’re almost there.”

“That’s good,” Jamshid said breathlessly. “Do you think… my mother… is dead?”

“Perhaps.”

“I should’ve… liked to have a mother.”

Dara let out a discontented grunt. “You could do better than Manizeh. And you have Kaveh… and your emir.”

“I suppose,” Jamshid mused. “Even so. I bet Nahri would have been glad… to have one… as well.”

Dara didn’t doubt that Jamshid would miss having a complete family, but he was uncertain about Nahri. She had a family of her own, but that was different from having parents. The soldier in him was wary his wife would’ve been swayed to Manizeh’s side while he was away. The logical side of him suggested otherwise. That she would not be deterred. She was smart - she was not easily manipulated. His wife was a pragmatist through and through.

After what was only ten or fifteen minutes, but what felt like hours, Jamshid and Dara arrived at camp. Dara tried to guide his companion around the outskirts of the encampment to avoid attracting attention. He would deposit Jamshid in his tent then seek out Nahri and Kaveh to heal him.

But he wouldn’t make it that far. At his tent stood both Irtemiz and Gushtap. Each of them wore disquieted expressions. They were murmuring to one another when they saw Dara and Jamshid. Both straightened up at the sight of them.

“Jamshid has lost a lot of blood, we need to get him to Nahri.”

“We are… here to do exactly that, Afshin,” Irtemiz said. “Come with us.”

Jamshid let out a shuddering breath. Dara felt anger flare within him. 

“I think it best if we let Banu Nahri come to _us_.”

When Gushtap and Irtemiz exchanged wary glances Dara grunted, heaving Jamshid up higher on his shoulder. “That is an order from your Afshin.”

“Afshin,” Gushtap sighed. “We take our orders from the Banu Nahida first and foremost. And she demands we take you to the prisoner camp to visit your wife.”

_NAHRI_

Nahri had been surprised to find that the “prisoner camp” was a single felt tent just as all the others were. The only difference was that the inside had three vertical poles to fasten prisoners to with the stack of rope in the corner. 

The news Manizeh had delivered to her - that her father was Rustam, that her mother had been a shafit Manizeh had hunted down - Not only had it made Nahri wiser, but it had given Nahri all the motivation she needed to see Manizeh’s life ended. She was almost worse than Ghassan - _almost._

For hours Nahri had been in this tent, her mind swimming with possible plans to distract her from the worry threatening to consume her. Trying her best to focus on foiling her aunt and less on the nagging fear that she was about to lose all she held dear.

Was Tamima safe? Were she and Muntadhir still hidden in the cove or had they been found by now?

Where were Dara and Jamshid? Had Qandisha killed them both? Was she now completely without a family? A widow who would have to bury her child with no one by her side.

_Focus. Perhaps you can get out of your binds…_

Even if she did, men stood just outside her tent waiting for her to pull such a move.

_Dara and Jamshid will return. The next time you see them they may tell you that Manizeh is dead!_

That was if they weren’t dead.

_Manizeh wouldn’t execute you for this. You’re pregnant! You’re her daughter!_

But something didn’t feel right about any of that. Manizeh had proven she was willing to go the extra mile to see people punished. Besides, her demeanor as of late seemed less like that of a mother and more like that of a suspicious relative. She hadn’t had kind words for Nahri; and Dara had disclosed that in private she’d referred to Jamshid as her “son” and Nahri as “the Afshin’s wife.” 

_You’re overthinking things. Focus on what you can say. You can talk your way out of this!_

She had talked her way out of many things.

But before she could start comprising any sort of deceptive speech, Manizeh’s voice sounded outside the tent.

“My darling, you’ll be good as new soon, I swear it.” Who was she talking to? Kaveh? “Bring her out.”

The tent flaps opened and Dara’s aid, Irtemiz, entered. Nahri stiffened, setting her jaw. The woman didn’t appear intimidated but she also seemed scared.

“Banu Nahri,” she said kneeling behind her and untying the rope from the pole. Irtemiz kept a firm grip on the remaining rope binding Nahri’s wrists. “Your husband, brother, and mother are outside. I’m to bring you to them.”

“I’m in no position to refuse them, am I?” Nahri said flatly.

Irtemiz had no reaction, she only helped Nahri to her feet and guided her out of the tent.

The moon was shining brightly overhead but it was the glow of numerous lanterns and a flickering fire that bathed the camp in light. 

Irtemiz lowered Nahri to her knees. Before her stood Dara, Jamshid, Manizeh, and Kaveh - behind them, from what Nahri could see, all the members of the camp were gathered.

Dara’s face was worn and creased with horror. Nahri could see his hands were shaking and she was concerned when she noticed that he did not have his bow. At his side was a pale Jamshid standing next to Manizeh. His arm was bound and in a sling. Nahri assumed this was what Manizeh had been referring to when she said someone would be “good as new.”

_How did it happen?_

Nahri suddenly realized Qandisha was nowhere in sight. Had Dara succeeded? Was she truly slain?

Manizeh let go of Jamshid and walked with Kaveh to Nahri’s side. She reached down placing a hand on her shoulder. 

“I’ve been through a lot in my years,” Manizeh began. “I’ve clawed my way out of many holes and I’ve done my best to do the same for others, in spite of what challenges I’m facing on my own.”

The audience she’d gathered seemed both puzzled, scared, and angry. Even the unwavering Irtemiz appeared to be at a crossroads. Her companion Gushtap, who was usually good-humored, looked as though the lightest gust of wind may knock him over.

“Tonight, Banu Nahri attempted to poison me. To _kill_ me rather than reason with me. And while she claims to have acted alone, it is all too clear that she was assisted by our own Darayavahoush and Jamshid,” Manizeh said forlornly. “While we have our differences with the ifrit, today our Afshin murdered Qandisha. Unprovoked. What ifrit we had to aid us in taking Daevabad have scattered. 

“I’ve brought you all here not to stand trial, but to bear witness. There will be some changes coming. We have to adapt if we are still to unseat Ghassan. Make up for the strength the ifrit gave us with something more creative. That said, I will issue the sentences.”

_Judge, jury, and executioner…_

Nahri felt herself tremble with rage. 

“My son, Jamshid, it is clear to me that you were under the Afshin’s influence. For that, I can forgive you. You were coerced. You are young.”

Jamshid looked like he may faint where he stood but instead, he swallowed hard, nodding.

“When you disclose the emir’s location not only will I see you both have a seat in my court, but I will lift the seal that inhibits your Nahid magic,” Manizeh said gallantly. A scowl crept across her lips. “We will need a replacement healer for Banu Nahri. Who after talking with my Wazir, agrees should be executed.”

Gasps could be heard throughout the camp. Dara swayed where he stood but before he could right himself Manizeh was continuing:

“ _However,_ if Jamshid is to take over as my healer then our Afshin will be down a skilled archer and second in command for the rebellion. Which brings us to you, Darayavahoush.”

Nahri did not like the way Manizeh said her husband’s name. As though sensing her rage, Kaveh brought a dagger to Nahri’s throat. Dara froze.

“You are the hero of our people, you’ve trained these men, your sacrifice and dedication do not go unappreciated.”

Her tone was so annoyingly coaxing Nahri felt nauseous. What was she going to offer Dara? Worse, what was she going to ask in return?

“With you down a second in command, you’ll need to compensate for the loss. I want to help,” she said beseechingly. She removed a small pouch from her pocket. “I feared that I could not trust you, Afshin. I told Qandisha as much and she agreed to help me.”

From the pouch, Manizeh removed a ring with a single, glimmering emerald in it. Nahri’s jaw fell, her breath catching in her chest making her choke. After everything they had worked for, after everything they had built, Nahri's aunt was willing to take it away in a single moment. Dara's eyes were wide in distress. Nahri had never seen him so afraid. Manizeh was a monster and Nahri had been wrong. She wasn’t as bad as Ghassan, she was worse.

Dara raised a hand but Manizeh poised the ring over her finger - he froze, a strangled cry escaping his lips. 

“Consider this, Afshin. I am doing you a kindness. Being a widower is a sad outcome to be sure - but making an orphan of your child is far wors-“

Her words were cut off. Nahri looked up to see that Kaveh had taken the dagger he had to Nahri’s throat and plunged it into Manizeh’s chest.

The emerald ring fell to the ground - someone screamed - Dara dove, grabbing his vessel.

There was a loud thud and an arrow had wedged itself in Kaveh’s chest. Nahri’s head whipped to seek out the danger.

Noshrad was wearing a look of fierce determination. He bellowed something at her that she couldn’t quite hear over the distraught cry of Jamshid and the screams of Manizeh’s people.

He raised another arrow, this time aiming at Nahri. She was ready to dodge - but the bindings on her arms weren’t allowing her to roll freely out of the way. In an instant, Dara was in front of her. Ready to take the blow for her. Ever her Afshin, willing to die in her place. 

But an arrow sunk itself in Noshrad’s throat. Nahri and Dara braced themselves for the next attack, turning to see where this arrow had come from.

Irtemiz stood, bow still drawn shifting her aim from Noshrad to the crowd of Manizeh’s fleeing subjects. Some were running into tents - some were heading for the hills.

A small clan of warriors had gathered screaming at Irtemiz - Gushtap stood in front of her yelling back at them.

It was complete and utter chaos.

“Afshin,” Irtemiz said hoarsely, her eyes and arrow not leaving the crowd of screaming Daevas. “Go! Take your wife and Jamshid and _go_!”

Dara did not waste a moment. He did as his soldier commanded, lifting Nahri into his arms and taking off with her. Jamshid limped along behind them. Nahri would never forget the pain in his eyes.

_DARA_

They headed straight for Zariaspa on three horses. It wasn’t the nearest town but it was the only one they were certain would take them in. They knew that there was safety there.

Each member of the party was wrestling a different demon the entire journey. Muntadhir had asked once what had happened, but when Jamshid only shuddered and Dara shook his head, he didn’t ask again.

They stopped to rest after the first day of traveling but only for a few hours. Then it was back on the horses and onto Zariaspa in their mutual silence. Even Tamima had been too sleepy to talk.

Dara was still trying to put the pieces from his memory in order. That whole night felt like a blur. Like a vague recollection from his days as a slave. 

He remembered Jamshid’s cry of pain as Qandisha had cut his arm, Qandisha’s howl of agony and abrupt stillness after Dara had shot arrows - dipped in Nahid blood - into both her lungs and throat. Dara remembered that he hadn’t felt the satisfaction he thought he would at her death. The revenge he had wanted but never sought had happened and he felt nothing for it.

His most vivid memories came from the camp. From his men taking him and Jamshid to the prisoner tent to see Nahri. Manizeh’s sugary sweet voice as she healed Jamshid’s arm and confessed she had caught them. That their plan was over. Nahri on her knees, hands bound behind her back with Kaveh’s dagger to her throat. Manizeh sentencing her to death. His stomach lurched recalling the panic, the aching that had wracked him at the thought of losing her - of failing to keep her safe.

Then Kaveh’s stunned eyes meeting his as Manizeh removed the slave vessel from a pouch, readying herself to enslave Dara. The anguished look that had crossed his face before he had plunged the dagger meant for Nahri through his lover’s throat. Then Noshrad sinking an arrow through Kaveh’s chest - an exclamation of horror from Jamshid as he watched both his mother and father be slaughtered before him. 

Noshrad aiming for Nahri. Nahri unable to roll out of dodge. Dara throwing himself before her only for Irtemiz to shoot Noshrad, then a strained voice waking him from his shock and pleading for them to escape.

They’d all but stumbled down the mountain to the cove where they found Muntadhir and Tamima eating together over a small fire then off into the night they went. It had all happened so fast. Like with everything else, their whole world turned upside down.

When they arrived in Zariaspa, it was very late. A small group of the city guard patrolled the Pramukh estate and were startled at the sight of the Banu Nahida, Afshin, emir, and Jamshid. Dara had ushered the rest of them inside while he stayed behind to talk with the guards. 

He told them that they may have been followed - that security presence should be increased along the outer walls of the city. When they asked for details to give their commanding officers Dara had told them he would explain in the morning - for now, he needed to rest. 

Relieved to have back their Afshin and Banu Nahida the guards hadn’t argued and followed Dara’s request.

Dara quietly entered the Pramukh estate - it was dark and silent and he had a feeling everyone had already lapsed into a deep slumber in one of the guest rooms.

He checked each one until he found Nahri sitting by Tamima on the bed, gently stroking her hair from her sleeping face. 

She met Dara’s gaze with a wry smile that he couldn’t bring himself to return. He felt frozen in time. Out of place.

He walked with heavy feet to the balcony hoping that fresh night air and the comforting sight of Zariaspa would calm him. Dara braced his hands on the familiar marble railing.

He recognized the sensation of numbness. It reminded him of being battle weary. He barely remembered his first life but the clearest memories he had were of his emotions. The sorrow, the terror, the anger. He knew all of these feelings well. 

A hand fell over his and Dara jumped in alarm - even though he knew that it was Nahri.

He wanted to be strong for her. To take her in his arms and let her cry - to make her feel safe. But the moment his gaze met her's Dara immediately broke down, sinking to his knees before her. Stifled sobs sent tremors down his back.

Nahri knelt in front of him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, letting him weep into the crook of his neck. Dara wasn’t sure how long they sat like this, but it felt like dawn should be breaking by now. It wasn’t though.

“I had truly thought I was going to lose you,” Dara said when he finally pulled away. He cupped Nahri’s face gently, thumb running across her cheekbone. “That I would lose everything.”

The memory of the emerald ring glinting in Manizeh’s hand almost made him gag. If Dara needed any further proof that being a shafit didn’t mean you were evil and being a Nahid didn’t mean you were good, it had been given to him at that moment. What Nahid, what _person_ would try to enslave a fellow Daeva? To sentence them to such a punishment.

The very thought of him being trapped within that vessel, only allowed to do Manizeh’s bidding, made his insides squirm. He would never see Nahri again, never see Tamima. He would live another eternity only to see carnage and terror.

“Dara, I can’t believe she almost did that,” Nahri said, shaking her head. “Dara, I am so sorry.”

He knew then that this would be just one of the many demons that would continue to haunt him throughout his days. Another rung on the ladder of mental tattoos marring his mind. Another nightmare for a sleepless night.

But Nahri took his hands in hers and nothing seemed quite so unbearable anymore. She could keep his demons at bay. She could help him face his fears. She was his Banu Nahida.

_Four months later…_

It didn’t take long for news of a failed rebellion to reach Daevabad. People far and wide were shocked to hear how close their city had come to being overwhelmed with ghouls, ifrit, marid, and enraged outcast Daeva. Ghassan’s rule - his ability to keep the city safe - was immediately questioned. He tried to maintain order, to enforce his ability to control his kingdom with fear first, then with flattery.

But he didn’t stand a chance against Ali. Alizayd spoke out against his father and his tyranny. The people of Daevabad misled and divided as they may have been, recognized a fair leader when they saw one. The Daeva tribe was reluctant to hear of the accommodations he planned to make for the shafit, but their fears were quelled by his promises to see that the Daeva Brigade and the Royal Guard were merged. That they were all to receive the same training no matter their clan.

Of course, the Geziri took issue with this, concerned that they were inviting another uprising. But their wariness was cured simply by Alizayd reminding him that he was one of them and he would never do anything to endanger his people. Some of the Geziri were also pleased to hear that Ali would be improving the living situations of the shafit. The true believers, that was. _How_ he would improve this was the only real, major concern of the city.

The shafit were not to be restricted to their quarter, all walls dividing quarters were to be torn down. The shafit were to be provided free property to start businesses and practice other occupations. While some insisted that this was a leg up, Alizayd stood his ground correcting them, stating that it was an equal playing field.

While these changes were met with cries of outrage, Alizayd had taken it in stride. He’d recognized that as time passed they would grow at least ambivalent to the ideas.

As Ghassan watched his son unravel his rule and start to loosen his hold on his citizens, rumors spread that the king would be stepping down.

Unfortunately, Ghassan was not allowed that chance.

In the night a group of assassins gained access to the palace and Ghassan was killed in his quarters. 

When Muntadhir did not appear to claim his seat on the throne and Ali took his place, whispers of concern spread that he was next. That these killers would return and murder royal after royal until a true Daeva ruled again.

But the assassins never returned. Seemingly satisfied with Ali’s rule, some surmised.

A handful of people claimed to have seen the killers citing they were dressed in dark traveling clothes, bows slung over their backs, led by a woman with a long braid. 

Of course, none of this was witnessed by Nahri or Dara or even Jamshid or Muntadhir. Daevabad had too many memories for the emir and his husband, and it certainly did not welcome Dara with open arms. 

Instead, Jamshid and Muntadhir took residence in Kaveh’s estate in Zariaspa. Muntadhir enjoyed country life more than he’d anticipated. The citizens of Zariaspa adored having him - he received attention, gifts and no one dared spit on the relationship of the king’s brother. At least not publicly.

Jamshid took comfort in returning to his home town - starting a life with Muntadhir surrounded by memories of his childhood had been a pleasant surprise. He thought only ghosts would haunt him there, but it was quite the opposite. Instead, he found peace in the nostalgia and hope for a better future where he and Muntadhir didn’t have to hide.

There were still foul whispers and snide looks - comments about it not being “a _real_ marriage,” but ultimately, the emir and Jamshid were too charming and generous to hate.

Nahri, Dara, and Tamima returned to their mountain home outside of Safater. Danger was especially lacking and while Dara still did morning and evening patrols of their home, visits to the town were more frequent than before. Tamima began to make friends among the children and Dara was eager to see Rahim again. 

It was difficult for Nahri to return to her makeshift infirmary though. She missed her bustling Zariaspa clinic very much.

Of course, Dara quickly noticed this and with a little assistance from Safater’s apothecary and Kaspar, an infirmary was established for Nahri in town. Above it, a modest apartment for their family to stay in. 

They migrated between their mountain home and the town at their leisure, sometimes staying in town a full week or even a month. It was very clear to Dara that Nahri did not care to sit still and Tamima was expressing a love for adventure. He was more than happy to accommodate the two of them.

However, nearing the end of this second pregnancy, Nahri recognized traveling was a bad idea. Dara had insisted that staying in town was the better idea and Nahri had reluctantly agreed. She wasn’t fond of the idea of people seeing her in such a vulnerable state, but they had learned their lesson long ago that solitude went hand in hand with risk. They were safer surrounded by the locals and should anything go terribly wrong during labor, the town apothecary owner had picked up training from Nahri and would be able to help.

 _“It could honestly be any day now,”_ Nahri had said yesterday.

Dara’s excitement had reached a familiar high at the news. There seemed to always be something else to look forward to. Dark thoughts crept into his mind telling him he did not deserve such joys. He did his best to remind himself that his guilt was not helpful to him, Nahri, Tamima, or their unborn daughter.

Nahri sat on the stone bench in the garden behind their shop watching Tamima pick up flowers and weeds, babbling incoherently to herself. The only word Dara could pickup when he joined them was “pretty” and “mine.”

Nahri shifted uncomfortably making room for him beside her. He sat, one hand rubbing circles on her back and the other resting on her distended stomach. She had grown terribly uncomfortable despite her hopes that her first bout with pregnancy would make this one easier. Noting the grimace on her face, Dara placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. 

“You look beautiful,” he said softly.

Nahri snorted. “Okay,” she replied - her voice flat with sarcasm.

Dara wrapped his arms around her. He pressed another kiss to her neck. “Truly. I mean it.” A kiss by her ear. “Irresistible.” A kiss to her jawline. “Alluring.” Another on her neck. “Radiant.”

“You have to say that though since you’re half responsible.”

“A little more than half responsible I believe, since I’m the one who asked you for another,” he smirked. “Do not worry, this is the last one I will ask for.”

“Oh? You’ll have your fill spoiling two girls rotten then?”

"Yes, I should imagine so."

"Three Nahids aren't too much for you, Afshin?"

Dara grinned. The dream of having a family was one he never thought would come true. When he’d turned twenty-five and was not betrothed, word had spread that Dara was married to his Nahids and that the only children he had would be his men. He resigned to these remarks with quiet acceptance. He admonished himself for any regret. He was a hero - and many Afshin envied his position. He was in no place to mourn missing out on having a wife and family.

And yet here he sat, in the back garden of his home watching his daughter pick flowers, his arms around his expecting wife.

“I suppose if that is too much you're out of time to object. Irtemiz should be here any day now,” Nahri added, patting her stomach.

It had been Nahri’s idea to name their newest daughter after one of the bravest Nahids, but also after the woman who saved her life. She had two great namesakes to live up to. Dara and Nahri looked to see Tamima running towards them, flowers in her hands. She held them out to Nahri.

“Amma, for baby.”

“These are for your sister?” Nahri asked, accepting the bouquet of weeds and blossoms. 

Tamima nodded.

“She will love them. We’ll put them in some water.”

“What is this, azizti?” Dara said, releasing Nahri and leaning his elbows on his knees. “Are you trying to make your sister like you more than me?”

Tamima paused then smiled. “Yes.”

“Positively diabolical,” Dara murmured, picking her up and placing her on his lap. 

Tamima picked at Dara’s sleeves. “Is it lunch?”

“You _just_ had breakfast,” Dara sighed. “Not but an hour ago.”

“I don’t know, husband,” Nahri said, turning to face him in her seat. “I am also hungry. If both of us are starved…”

“Oh, you’re _starved,_ little thief?”

“... then perhaps it _is_ lunch.”

Dara’s dark eyes flickered between both of them. “Creator, I thought more girls meant less of an appetite. Saffron rice it is,” Dara conceded. He put Tamima back on the ground. “Will you at least help me?”

Tamima nodded excitedly. “Yes.”

Nahri raised a hand beckoning for Dara to help her up. He took both her hands, pulling her to her feet and steadying her. “Ah, so you've decided to help me as well, wife?”

Nahri kissed his lips tenderly, fingers weaving in his hair. Dara embraced her back, being mindful of her stomach. 

“I’ve decided to take a nap, Afshin,” she whispered, patting his cheek. 

“Nap!” Tamima yelled.

Tamima did not care to nap on her own but she did love to nap with her mother. Dara scooped her up, delighting in the giggle spilling from her lips.

“Amma, is pregnant - what’s your excuse for being lazy?”

They started inside.

“Being that adorable is exhausting, Darayavahoush.”

“I suppose you would know,” he said, flashing her the roguish grin he knew made her melt.

Her cheeks flushed red.

Once Dara had safely deposited his wife and daughter back into bed, he set to cooking. It was a chore he enjoyed. Nahri often teased that he had traded his bow for a soup pot, but there were worse things in the world. Menial tasks like cooking, cleaning, shopping for supplies were all a pleasure for Dara - especially when accompanied by his wife and daughter. He still hunted with Rahim and counted the days till Tamima could hold a bow without toppling over.

When asked by locals if he ever missed the adventure Dara always said the same thing. That his life, in spite of routines, was adventure enough. It was as he told Nahri all those years ago, adventures went beyond traveling. Adventure for him was the life he and Nahri had made, ever-changing, ever-evolving into something better, something new. That was more than enough for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've got an epilogue and then I am done with this AU, folks :) Thanks for reading


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Tamima's Perspective: Ten years later

“Your form is abhorrent,” Tamima told her younger sister. She was twelve after all. Between her and her sister, she knew best how to hold a bow. “Why are your feet so wide apart?”

“They aren’t that wide,” grumbled Irtemiz. “And I’m going to go back inside if you keep being so bossy…”

“Quitter.”

“You know, baba says patience is-“

“You are not baba, Irtemiz. You are nine,” said Tamima flippantly. 

She knew her sister had a point though. Her father always said she may have inherited his talent with a bow and his skill on horseback, but her patience and her temper were all her mother. 

Irtemiz let go of the arrow. It soared past the target and into the woods. She rolled her eyes in frustration. 

_Patience then…_

Tamima walked to her sister helping her to nock another arrow in her practice bow. “Now move your feet closer together… good… level your elbow… okay, now straighten up, Baba says to pretend there’s a string tied to your head and it’s pulling you up straight… just like that. Deep breath in and when you let it out, just let go of the arrow. Don’t move anything but your fingers. Go.”

Irtemiz inhaled through her nose, then exhaled releasing the arrow. It landed in the dummy’s leg. Not exactly a kill shot but a definite improvement. Irtemiz beamed at her big sister proudly. Tamima felt herself swell with pride

_Okay, maybe patience does work…_

“That was really good, ukhti,” Tamima said, walking to the target.

“No! Don’t take it out! I wanna show, baba!”

Tamima froze before the target, raising her hands. “Alright, go get baba.”

She heard her sister’s tiny feet patter away and tried to quell her excitement. Sure, Irtemiz hit the target and her father would certainly be proud of that, but she wouldn’t have been able to do that without Tamima’s teaching. She felt her stomach flip in excitement. What would her baba say? Would he be impressed with Irtemiz? Tamima delighted in her father’s praise.

“Don’t look yet, baba. Are your eyes _really_ closed?” Irtemiz asked skeptically.

Tamima turned from the target to see her father walking out of the house, one hand covering his eyes and the other in being held by Irtemiz.

“Yes, azizti. I would not dare spoil your surprise,” he drawled.

Irtemiz dragged him a few steps before the target. “Okay. You can look!”

He let his hand fall from his eyes and peered ahead of him. Tamima gestured dramatically to the arrow impaling the dummy’s leg area. 

He looked from the arrow to Irtemiz’s toothy smile. “By the Most High, was this you?”

“Yes,” Irtemiz said proudly. She nodded at Tamima. “Ukhti helped me!”

“She is a fine tutor to have. The best archer in the mountains of Daevastana.”

Tamima grinned and reached to pull the arrow out of the target.

“No, Tamima! I wanna show amma next!”

Tamima sighed. “Irtemiz, amma won’t be back for hours. She’s picking herbs today and I want to practice more.”

“Well, it’ll be a true test of your skills to shoot around Irtemiz’s arrow,” her father tried with a shrug. 

Tamima shot him a look that her mother attributed to belonging to her Afshin side of the family. “I know what you are doing, baba,” she said flatly. Tamima looked at her sister. “You are fortunate I’m so talented. Perhaps I’ll even let you take credit for my better shots.”

Irtemiz beamed triumphantly. “ _Thank you_ , Tamima…”

“Yes, yes, fine…” she said waving an errant hand. She smirked at Irtemiz playfully. “I won’t keep you any longer. Go do whatever it is bratty, little sisters do.” 

“We climb trees,” she replied with a knowing smile. “And drop things on our big sisters.”

Tamima snickered, picking up her own bow and the real arrows. Her father had only just let her begin to practice with them when she turned twelve this year. He said when she was thirteen she could start using the throwing knives.

Irtemiz scurried off towards the trees.

“Not far, Irtemiz!” her father called.

“I know!”

Tamima took her place at the shooting line. She was acutely aware of her father standing directly behind her. 

“Would you prefer I not watch?” he asked.

“I like it when you watch, baba.”

Tamima released her arrow. It sunk itself squarely in the chest of her target.

“Wow, little warrior,” her father muttered. “Masterfully done.”

Tamima tried not to show her enthusiasm at her father’s praise, but a smile spread on her face all the same.

“Thank you.”

“At this rate you’ll be shooting on horseback when you are sixteen.”

Tamima raised another arrow. “When did you start shooting on horseback?”

He was silent for a moment. “I do not recall. But quite young.”

“I want to learn at fourteen,” she said loosing the next arrow. It lodged itself in the dummy’s face. 

He whistled and handed her another arrow. 

“Am I not good enough to learn now?” Tamima challenged. 

Her father laughed softly. “No, no, that is not why I hesitate.” He folded his arms. “I just want to make sure that you are practicing because you _want_ to. I didn’t have a say and I want to make sure that you do.”

Tamima arched a brow. “Do not be ridiculous, baba. Of course, I want to.”

“Then it shall be done,” he smiled bending at the waist. He tucked a stray curl back into her braid gently. “But when you are fourteen and not a minute sooner.”

“Of course, baba,” she winked. “Not a single second sooner.”

Tamima’s mother was very impressed with Irtemiz’s shot when they returned. Tamima decided to remove her own arrows from the target in an effort not to upstage her sister. 

After dinner, Tamima and Irtemiz managed to convince their father to make a fire pit outside. It was not difficult, especially when their mother joined. Tamima knew her father was strong, but he did have three weaknesses and each of them had curly hair.

“When do we head to Safater, amma?” Irtemiz asked from her seat on the stool beside Tamima.

“In three days. Your schooling starts in a week and I want to be there when everyone inevitably starts coming down with that sneezing flower petals illness they all seem to get at this time of year.”

“Amma, can I help?” Irtemiz piped up.

“I would be lucky for it, my Banu Irtemiz,” her amma smiled. “Especially when you recognized the lavender I brought home today. You’re well on your way to being a proper healer.”

Irtemiz looked at Tamima, her eyes wide and her jaw dropped in happy surprise. She always craved Tamima’s approval, she had no idea why. All the same, Tamima gave her a wide smile, nodding enthusiastically.

Tamima had tried her hand at healing and as a Nahid she could seal cuts and mend bones. However, her heart wasn’t in healing as much as her sister’s was. Tamima had feared disappointing her mother when she admitted her lack of enthusiasm for infirmary work, but she’d been nothing but encouraging about where her passions truly lay. On the back of a horse with a bow slung over her shoulders. Many people told Tamima she was her father’s daughter. He always said the same thing. _“Test her patience and temper. That’s where you’ll find Nahri.”_

Tamima didn’t mind this. Her father loved her mother despite whatever temper or lack of patience she seemed to have. In fact, everyone seemed to love her mother.

But there were looks her father received sometimes that unsettled Tamima. She had learned that her father was once a monster, she had learned that he was once a slave, she learned that she could hate what he had done and love who he had become. She did not know the extent of her father’s actions, but her parents had told her that the time would come when they would discuss it further. She couldn’t imagine it was anything so terrible. Her father was, for the most part, a very light-hearted man if a bit sarcastic.

Yet some nights she found him so completely distressed and despondent that she hardly recognized him. Those nights her mother usually asked her to go back to bed and she would listen to the gentle muffled voices downstairs as her parents spoke in hushed tones into the early mornings.

There were moments from her childhood she recalled where her father would seem to be on the verge of tears out of nowhere. Then he would see her or see her mother and all was well.

Looking into the dark eyes they both shared now, Tamima wondered if, despite his smile, there were demons haunting him at this very moment. 

That night, after the embers had died in the fire, and her younger sister began to yawn, the family headed inside. Tamima had long shared a bedroom with Irtemiz - though her father promised her soon he would build her a room of her own here. 

She had her own room in their Safater home though.

Irtemiz all but demanded that their mother tuck her in - a request their father resented wasn’t delegated to him. But it wasn’t personal, as they often told him, their mother had smaller hands better for tucking the blankets around them with. Besides, he was the storyteller between the two. He had tales of monsters and adventures and magic.

While Tamima didn’t need to be tucked in, she did love to listen to her father’s stories.

“Which one tonight?” her father asked, sitting on the stool by Irtemiz’s bed, reserved especially for him.

“The ghouls in the cemetery!” Irtemiz cried.

“I want the Zahhak,” Tamima whined. “The ghouls are gross.”

“That is fair. Ghouls are very gross,” their father amended. “What other one would you hear then, Tamima?”

Tamima lay on her back on her bed, fingers laced behind her neck as she stared up at the ceiling. “The rukh one.”

Down the hall, they heard their mother let out a bark of laughter. It wasn’t so much that the story was particularly funny, it was just her father’s decision making that made them laugh. The tale was in fact mostly exciting and heartbreaking. Irtemiz agreed eagerly to this choice and their father was left powerless.

“I regret ever telling you that story,” he said, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Alright, this is the tale of how a horse died…”

You would not be able to tell that her baba disliked telling this story by the way he spoke of the adventure. It was only when he explained his reasoning that giggles erupted.

“But _why_ did you jump down the rukh’s throat, baba?” grinned Irtemiz.

Their father exhaled laboriously, the corner of his lip quirked up.

“Because… I had heard it in a story once…”

Irtemiz dissolved into laughter. 

Tamima smirked. “Baba, since I heard _this_ story does that mean _I_ should jump down a rukh’s throat?”

Irtemiz laughed harder. Her father looked across the room at her with an arched brow. Tamima met his gaze with a challenging smile.

“In my defense, I was technically not alive so _dying_ wasn’t really a possibility. So if _you_ , Tamima, were to try it, it would be much more ill advised.”

“Fine, fine, I suppose I won’t seek out a rukh then,” Tamima exhaled.

“ _As I was saying_ …” he continued.

In the middle of the night, Tamima woke to a loud cry. She recognized it immediately as her father. Across the room Irtemiz sat upright, eyes wide in surprise. She did not have the experience Tamima did with their father’s nightmares. Besides, she was the eldest and took pride in her duty of bossing her sister around.

She slid out of her bed and crossed to Irtemiz. Outside the bedroom, the muffled voices of both their parents could be heard as they headed downstairs and into the garden. 

“Baba is hurt again?” Irtemiz asked.

Tamima gently settled her back into the bed. “Yes, but just for a moment. He will be fine.”

“Tamima,” Irtemiz squeaked. “Will you go see him? And tell me if he is okay?”

“You know that he sometimes feels upset, Irtemiz. He isn’t truly hurt.”

“But will you just check? Please?”

The way her little sister’s dark eyes were shining with tears made Tamima weak. She pressed a kiss to her forehead and ruffled her curls. “Alright. Then you’ll go back to bed?”

Irtemiz nodded. 

Tamima crept out of the room as quietly as she could manage and down the stairs. She crossed the moonlight bathed living area to the window looking into the garden. On a stone bench with their backs to her sat her mother and father. She saw her mother’s arms wrapped tightly around his middle, her head resting on his shoulder. Tamima did not miss the tremors going down his spine. She could easily return to bed now and report to Irtemiz that their father was fine, but another part of her wanted to stay. To hear what it was her amma said to soothe her baba’s soul.

“Which nightmare was it?” her mother asked softly.

“I can’t recall,” he sighed. “I just know that I had one.”

“Where are you?”

“Home.”

“More specific.”

“The garden of our home.”

“And who am I?”

“Nahri.”

“And who am I to you?”

“My wife.”

“And what is your name?”

“Darayavahoush.”

“But what do I call you?”

“Dara… Afshin…”

“And what do your children call you?”

“Baba.”

“And what are your children called?”

“Irtemiz and Tamima.”

Tamima noted the way his voice broke when he said her name. She knew why. Her late aunt. He’d never gone into detail, only saying that he was at fault for her death and that she was good and kind. He also mentioned that she certainly lived up to her namesake. Her love of archery, horses, and all things warrior related. 

“Do you feel better, my Afshin… No? I’ll make us some tea.”

Tamima scrambled to her feet, trying to quietly make her way upstairs before she was caught, but Nahri had already slipped inside.

“Tamima.”

She slowly turned to face her mother. 

She wore a sad smile. “Are you alright?”

Tamima nodded. “Yes, Irtemiz asked that I check on baba so… I’ll go back to bed now. He is fine though, yes?”

“Yes, he is much better now,” her amma reassured, heading towards the kitchen. “Perhaps tonight you should go talk to him. Keep him company while I make tea. It may make him feel better.”

Tamima chewed her lip. This was most unusual. Every other time Tamima had gone to check on her father her mother gently told her to return to her bedroom. She wondered what had caused her mother’s sudden change of heart. She wouldn’t question it. Instead, she just nodded.

“Alright,” Tamima said softly.

Her mother offered a warm smile before departing to the kitchen. Tamima stepped outside into the moonlit garden. Once the door shut her father turned around. His brows raised at the sight of her and she noticed his eyes seemed a little red. He quickly composed himself and gave her a sheepish grin.

“Tamima, I’ve woken you,” he sighed. “I am sorry.”

Tamima only shrugged and joined him on the bench. They both turned their eyes skyward taking in the flickering stars overhead. It was her favorite part of living out in the forest mountains. You could still see the stars in Safater, but not like this. Here they were unabashed and untouched. Not even a lantern or torch to draw away your attention.

“Amma will give you some tea. It’ll help you get back to sleep.”

“I don’t care, baba,” Tamima said. “Little warriors don’t need sleep anyway.”

He chuckled. “I suppose not. You’ve always been one for late nights. In Zariaspa you would wake whenever your mother had a late night patient and I would have to occupy you till you went back to bed.”

“I sound annoying,” she replied flatly.

Her father snorted. “No, no. You could never annoy me.”

Part of Tamima wondered if she should ask him about his nightmares. See if he needed someone to hear his burdens. Then again, he had their mother for that, and he had seemed content to discuss other topics.

“Was it hard for you to shoot on horseback when you were my age?”

He considered this in silence. “I do not recall, but imagine so.”

“But weren’t you the best at everything?”

He looked down at her sharply, alarm in his dark eyes. “Who told you that?”

Tamima had forgotten herself. Her father did not like talking much about his past. Specific details of the topic she’d heard from other people. Rahim had told her that legend said her father was skilled with every weapon and that he didn’t meet a challenge he couldn’t face. She shouldn’t have said anything. Tamima hung her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said solemnly. Tamima chose her next words carefully. “Just… someone in town told me… that you have always been very skilled.” 

The grief on his face only made Tamima want to ask more about what he had done. He said he would tell her when she was older and as the years passed she never pried. She wasn’t certain she wanted to know the details. Just knowing that he’d done something unforgivable was enough. Just knowing that whatever it was had to do with some sort of massacre was too much. Her mother had told her that if they ever visited Daevabad before her father explained, she would have to tell her in private. The occasion hadn’t arisen yet. 

“I was,” her father finally said. “I was… many things.”

Tamima nodded and took her father’s hand. “I think everyone is.”

“You sound like your amma,” he smirked. “But you don’t need to concern yourself with raising my spirits, Tamima. That is not your job.”

There was something sad in his eyes that made Tamima frown. Noticing this, her father cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“You’ll do well on horseback though. With how short you are - it makes for a better rider.”

“I am not that short…” she grumbled.

“I do not call you little warrior simply because you are young, Tamima. You’re quite small.”

“I’m almost as tall as amma.”

“Amma is not very tall.”

“Well, one day I could be as tall as you.”

“I am not very tall,” he snorted.

Tamima scowled. Her father laughed quietly. She had been told by her mother many times that she had her “baba’s scowl.” 

They were silent for a few moments. Both still taking in the stars. Eventually, her father sighed and released her hand, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“I know that you are owed answers, Tamima,” he said quietly. “You should know more about who I was and I would like to be the one to tell you.”

Tamima had always known he was ashamed of his past even if she did not yet know all the details. That much was evident as well as the fact he had left death and destruction in his wake. But he was her father first. The man who taught her how to shoot a bow. The man who she cooked breakfast with. The man who lifted her up to climb trees when she was little. The man that Tamima knew was not capable of carnage. 

“You can tell me when you are ready. The answers are not important right now.”

He glanced at her over his shoulder, his expression puzzled. “But you will tell me when it is important?”

Tamima nodded with a shrug of her shoulders. She climbed to sit on her knees, leaning her head on his back. She yawned loudly.

“Amma said you used to be able to conjure food. Do you miss that?”

“Um…”

“You just have to cook _so_ much for us. I would want to be able to snap my fingers and food be ready.”

“I was not very good at conjuring anything but my mother’s lentil soup, really… and wine,” he muttered.

Tamima laughed. “I thought you were skilled at everything, baba.”

“I am a fine cook without magic, thank you.”

“Yes, how _did_ you become so good at cooking if you never had to cook before?”

“My family cooked a lot. I don’t remember much but I _do_ remember my family being very talented in the kitchen…”

Eventually her mother joined them with tea and they continued talking late into the night till Tamima’s eyelids began to droop. She learned more about her father’s past that night than ever before. She learned the ways they were alike and they were different. She learned about his family. She learned everything she wished to know. The rest could wait. At least for a little while.

And when she fell asleep on her mother’s shoulder, her father carried her back to bed. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and left her to her dreams of shooting on horseback and riding over the plains, with him at her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so part 2/the final part of epilogue is next and we outtie


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue Part 2  
> From Dara's perspective: Dara need his daughter's advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place roughly five years after epilogue part 1  
> Thanks to astarisms for telling me to publish this one

Dara watched his daughter gallop across the lush Gozan plains, standing in the stirrups with her bow aimed at a passing boar. She let loose the arrow only for it to go barreling past the fleeing beast into the wild greenery. He winced as she let out a loud growl of frustration. 

Dara was well aware most seventeen-year-olds were irritable, but Tamima was especially sensitive when it came to failure. More specifically, as of late, failure when riding on horseback.

She trotted back to his side, Dara adjusted his position on his own horse as he tried to think of what to say to his dejected daughter. She wore his scowl on her lips, eyes downcast.

“Your form was really _very_ good,” he tried.

Tamima gave him a look informing him she didn’t care to be patronized.

“I don’t know if even _I_ could’ve hit him, Tamima. It’s a small target and there are a lot of trees.”

“Oh, okay,” she said flatly. “Ya, I’m sure Darayavahoush e-Afshin wouldn’t be able to hit a _boar_ in the _woods…_ ”

He shrugged his shoulders. “You are seventeen… I have had centuries of practice.”

“At seventeen you were the best with every weapon, were you not?”

After two years Dara was still not used to his eldest daughter being so well acquainted with his past. And soon he would be forced to tell Irtemiz. It had been Nahri’s suggestion that he take Tamima away for a few days before he sat down with his youngest child and elaborated on the sins of his past. He needed a clear head and perhaps Tamima could help. Of his daughters, Irtemiz was the more sensitive of the two, and if anyone knew how to navigate her emotions better than Dara, it was her older sister that she argued with fairly regularly - but no more often than average for sisters. Irtemiz was always surprising him - some days she was a merciless trickster and other days, as delicate as a rose petal. 

Dara fought off a cringe at the thought of confessing to her and pulled the reins so that his horse was positioned to start heading down the Gozan. 

“We should head to town,” he said, changing the subject. “It’ll be dark soon.”

“Baba,” she groaned. “I only hit three today! I haven’t even stood on the horse yet.”

“You will get there eventually. Just not today,” Dara said gently.

Tamima’s jaw clenched and Dara had to fight off a snicker. She was very much Nahri when it came to her patience. It was a greater source of amusement than it should have been for him.

“We’ll stay an extra day. Amma won’t mind. We’ll come back tomorrow and try again,” he offered. 

Tamima nodded begrudgingly. 

“We’ve got a long way to town though. So we should leave now before it gets dark.”

She grinned at him. “Is it a race against the clock then, baba?” 

A smile broke out his face. She very much lived up to her namesake. He was grateful for the distraction as well.

“I would say so.”

She did not say a word, only took off at a gallop down the Gozan, Dara just on her heels.

The inn they stayed at was about a two-hour ride from the Gozan. The sun was setting as they climbed the stairs to their room.

“I’m so _hungry_!” Tamima moaned dramatically.

Dara snorted. “Alright, I’ll go get us some supper then, shall I?”

“Creator, yes, _please._ Amma will be very upset if we return and I’m malnourished.”

He rolled his eyes and handed her the keys to their room, setting back down the stairs to go into town and grab dinner for them. 

Walking through the small town, Dara earned a few glances and murmurs. He’d long been out of the public eye, long been lost to the world, but his past followed him like an ever-present shadow. He would never be able to shed the second skin of tragedy that clung to him. Dara was aware of that. Only in Safater was he treated like your average citizen, and in Zariaspa he had the status of a nobleman. Everywhere else, he was watched warily. As though they were waiting from him to remove his scourge and-

Dara shut his eyes tight, banishing the thought as he handed the money over to the vendor.

Over dinner, Tamima did not disappoint Dara with keeping his spirits up. Nahri and Dara, together, were a witty pair - but all on her own, Tamima was a source of laughter. For all her frustration and how hard she was on herself, his daughter’s sarcasm was a force to be reckoned with. To think that two years ago he was worried he would never see her smile at him again. He shuddered, remembering the months that followed his confession where she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye. How he eventually set off on his own for a few months to give her some space.

Their tearful reunion was the only aspect that offered him some comfort.

Tamima dipped her manna in the tahini sauce and cocked a brow at her father. Even in the soft glow of the lanterns that illuminated their humble room, he was evidently troubled. He tried to rearrange his expression, but it was too late.

“What?” she asked simply.

Dara waved an errant hand. “We can discuss it later.”

“Why later?”

“It is unimportant now.”

Tamima froze and dropped her food. “You know don’t you?”

Dara blinked. 

“Creator, who told you? Are you mad?”

“What am I to be mad about?” he asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

Tamima suddenly looked very anxious. She chewed her lip and Dara felt that familiar tug at his heart when he worried about his daughter. 

“Tamima…”

“Eh… don’t be mad.”

“Alright, alright, I won’t be mad.”

He could never be mad at her no matter how hard he tried.

“I may have… swiped one of your bottles of wine and shared it with Saman and Bita when we were in Safater last week. There,” she said in a rush.

Dara had to repeat the sentence to himself to fully understand what she meant. She had drunk with him on a number of occasions since she was sixteen - never to excess but it wasn’t uncommon. Dara certainly would’ve preferred she would have come to him instead of going behind his back but it was hardly anything to be mad about. 

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Tamima said hoarsely. “I _stole_ from you. I got drunk with my friends!”

He snickered. “Tamima… you _stole_ a bottle of wine from your _parents._ You used it to have some entertainment with your friends - both of whom I like,” Dara explained, the corner of his lip hitching up. “This is not a criminal offense.”

“Oh.”

“You are… not in the habit of stealing from others, I presume?” 

He tried not to sound too concerned - but Tamima was the daughter of a former thief. He wanted to be careful.

She smirked. “No, no. I only steal from my loved ones, baba.”

“What a relief,” the Afshin deadpanned, fighting off a smile.

Silence enveloped the moment as Dara was reminded of his troubles. This did not escape his daughter’s notice.

“What were you going to say though? If this wasn’t about my criminal inclinations.”

Part of Dara worried that in resurfacing the topic, voicing his concerns, he would lose all the progress he’d made with Tamima. He had to know though. He needed his daughter’s help.

He cleared his throat, stacking the empty containers and clearing the low table separating them. “I will be… speaking with Irtemiz soon,” he said quietly. “She’s the same age as when I spoke with you.”

Tamima instantly took his meaning. “Oh.”

“Yes.”

She chewed slowly, her eyebrows drawing together. Dara waited for her response. Instead, she just looked back at him. Her eyes, so hauntingly familiar to his sister’s, only served to further his guilt. She deserved better than him for a father. It was not her job to help him in disclosing his crimes to her sister. This was his burden to bear alone. 

“What are you gonna do?” Tamima asked curiously.

Dara rubbed the back of his neck anxiously and shook his head. “Don’t trouble yourself with-“

“It isn’t any trouble,” she said with a shrug. “Do you want my advice?”

_Yes. Help me._

“Only if you are willing. This is my responsibility.”

“We are family,” she replied simply. “We help each other.”

“I am to help _you,_ as the parent. Not the other way around.”

“That’s absurd, baba. I care about Irtemiz. I care about you. I would like to help.”

Dara sighed, surrendering to the good nature of his daughter. “Alright, then. Proceed.”

Tamima brushed the crumbs off her hands, her expression thoughtful as she cleared away her own dishes. “Well, you prepared all of us. You’ve always mentioned that… there were terrible things in your past that you would explain when it was time. But giving us the choice to ask sooner is something I appreciated from you. It’s one of the reasons that I trusted you were telling me the truth. You’ve done the same for Irtemiz.”

“I have.”

“And she’s not inquired further?”

“No.”

“Mmm…” Tamima remarked. She leaned her elbow on the table. “Well, do it privately. Like you did for me. Don’t spare any of the… gory details.”

Dara flinched at the phrasing but nodded. 

“I think, how you told me was best for me, but Irtemiz is different, baba. She is… she is very fragile and she tends to feel things harder. She will need more time than I did.”

Dara felt his stomach lurch. Those seven months of not speaking with Tamima had been torture. He couldn’t imagine it going on longer than that. 

“Baba, I know you don’t want to hear it, and I certainly don’t relish the thought, but I think it would be best if you left. Just for a little while,” Tamima said softly. “That is when I truly started to… heal. Seeing you every day after all that I learned… it was hard to reconcile.”

Dara nodded, trying to appear indifferent. His heart ached at the suggestion, but it was truly the least he could do. It was a blessing and given the circumstances, it wasn’t the worst outcome. He hoped that Irtemiz would forgive him his past as Nahri had, as Tamima had… but as her sister had said, Irtemiz was a gentle soul. For all her smiles and tricks, she was much like her mother. She felt her emotions hard and strong. She expressed her feelings rawly. Tamima had always been more like Dara, hot-tempered but talented at masking her sorrow with anger. 

Dara realized he didn’t really know how Tamima had taken the news. She had been visibly upset but her feelings to this day were a mystery. Would he be prepared for Irtemiz’s reaction?

“May I ask what you were feeling?” Dara asked, unable to meet Tamima’s gaze.

Tamima wasn’t typically one to share her thoughts. She had always been forthright but not when it meant she was vulnerable.

“You do not have-“

“No, no. I want to. I don’t mind,” she said dismissively.

Dara’s eyes flickered to her as she leaned back against the bed behind her from her seat on the floor. She crossed her arms contemplatively. “I knew that I wasn’t going to like what you were going to tell me. I was ready for that. And when you prefaced with your request for me not to mention it to Irtemiz I was even more concerned. I was prepared though. You and amma taught us, from a very young age, that you were a different man. You told us about your days as a… slave…”

Dara winced again. 

“How you didn’t recall much but you knew you’d done horrible things by the will of men. I felt sorry for you and told myself that I could love you as my baba, I didn’t have to love you for who you were. So when you told me you’d done equally awful deeds… of your own accord… I felt like a fool. Like I had been tricked.”

He wasn’t sure how, but somehow Dara was able to fight back the tears that pricked his eyes. He did not have a right to be sad about this.

“The hardest part though was when you told me I could ask you questions. And it was hard because I was scared of the answers but I still wanted them.”

He blurted it out before he could think it through. “May I ask what was the worst answer?”

“Um…” Tamima cleared her throat. “When I asked you if there had been children… and you said… you said: yes.”

Dara could hear the quiver in her voice, he could see the gleam of tears in her eyes. He opened his mouth to stop her, but realized that perhaps… Tamima needed this. She needed to confront him. After all, when he had returned to her after all those months they’d never spoken about his past again. To him, she seemed content to live with the knowledge that her father was a monster.

Her dark gaze became angry. “And I was so mad at you - I was so, _so_ mad.”

Dara nodded, urging her to continue. The words stung, but in a way, it was good to hear. He felt a sense of closure.

“And then I had to look at you every day. I had to accept that you were… that you had been…” she swallowed hard. “That you had been a nightmare. The man of horror stories. A monster whose name struck fear in the hearts of people like amma, people like me. That you had once considered someone like me a dirt blood.” The words were spat out like they were bitter on her tongue. “And I just couldn’t… put together that this man, the one who would’ve fourteen hundred years ago… beat me bloody-“ her voice broke.

Dara nearly choked but locked his jaw trying to stay strong. He had no right to weep. This was not his horror story. If Dara wanted to cry - he could do so in private. But he had not earned - no - he did not _deserve_ to seek comfort.

Tamima quickly brushed away the tears that rolled down her cheeks with her palms. She sniffed and continued. “How could that monster be - how could he be the same man that raised me? That adored me? That taught me to shoot and climb and kissed my scrapes before they healed? How could… The Scourge… be _that_ man?”

He allowed her to pause. He allowed a stretch of agony between them, sitting patiently, awaiting her to continue. Hearing her say the words: The Scourge. It made him nauseous. It was not often that Tamima broke down in front of him. Nahri had told him time and time again she took her nickname of “little warrior” very seriously.

“When you left, I told myself I would not miss you - how could I? And when I did I was very upset with myself because… I shouldn’t miss you. I shouldn’t miss a man who tried to eradicate people like me, like amma out of hatred,” she said through gritted teeth. She let out a strangled sob but quickly composed herself. “And then I realized that I didn’t miss that man. I missed the man who picked me up when I fell down, who told me not to mind what people said about my blood, who busted another man’s lip when he called my amma a ‘dirt blood whore,’” she smirked tearfully. 

Dara smiled sadly at his daughter, still fighting the battle against his own tears. Against the pain that wracked his shoulders as he threatened to release a stifled cry.

Tamima finally met his gaze, her eyes were red but soft. “Who I missed was my baba.” She was suddenly wrecked with what appeared to be grief. “I hated you and for a while, you terrified me. It was terrifying to see you smile and wonder if it was real. To see you kiss amma and realize that before you would’ve rather she be dead. And two years later… I feel better but I will never lie to you, it _is_ still there. I fear it always will be.”

“I know,” Dara said solemnly. “I expected as much.”

“Creator, sometimes I… I see you in myself… I see you in my love for riding and the bow and I worry… what if I am next? It is absurd, I know this, but what if I become a monster of my own making because of you?”

Dara felt as though he had been struck. Tamima could mitigate his past, she could forgive him and love him despite his sins, but she feared for her own soul because of the things he had done. He could not have imagined a worse outcome. His heart sank and he reached over the table for her hand. Quietly sobbing she took his fingers, squeezing them tightly. 

“Tamima, no. You could never.”

“I know it’s foolish, but it nags at me. It comes for me and I can’t shake it, no matter what I say to myself,” she sniffed. “I mean, when it was you, surely you didn’t recognize what you had become.”

“No. No, I did not.” Dara’s pleading eyes sobered and he held his daughter’s gaze intently. “Tamima, I was very young. I was raised from birth with hatred. I was flattered by people who I was taught were exalted. I was a coward. I was naive. I never questioned myself - I was too afraid to.” He could not fathom how his heart ached at the sight of his daughter. Her face streaked with tears, chest heaving. He’d never seen her so distressed. There was an unnerving need to _fix this_. “All I had in the world were weapons, a family obsessed with duty and the Nahids. There was no one to hold me accountable and no one to guide me. _You_ are not alone, Tamima. And you are brave and you are good.”

“No, Irtemiz is good…”

“You are good too. Goodness is not just measured in kind words. Goodness is more than that. It’s responsibility for your actions. It’s lending an ear. It’s… confessing to your father that you stole a bottle of wine from him.”

Tamima released a noise that was both a cry and a laugh.

An unknown resolve and strength filled Dara. “You are no Scourge. Not even close. You have more than just weapons to keep you company and you are far braver than I ever was, Tamima. You are no monster.”

It took only a fraction of a second for Tamima to scramble to her father’s side of the table and collapse into his arms, crying into his chest. Relieved by the feeling of her in his embrace, Dara held her tighter to him, his fingers gently tucking loose strands of her braid back in. They sat like that for the better half of an hour, in silence. There was a sense of calm that fell over Dara. His daughter feared him, she admittedly hated part of him, but she still _needed_ him. Tamima still loved him. She still saw her father. He would happily accept her fear and her wariness if she still went riding with him or came to him when she needed comfort. It was more than he deserved.

“You should tell Irtemiz all of that, baba,” Tamima said drowsily. “Tell her why you did what you did.”

“I… Tamima, I cannot excuse what I did. I was no victim despite my circumstances. I may not have had a chance but I had a choice… and I was too much a coward to take it.”

“Then do not use it as an excuse,” she replied, with a yawn. “I wondered how you could commit such atrocities. It makes a difference that you know why you did what you did. Especially if you tell her that you recognize it was wrong.”

“Tamima, it still-“

“You wanted my advice, baba. That is it.”

Dara placed a kiss on the top of his daughter’s head, appreciating the feel of her in his arms. He’d not expected her to still need holding at seventeen and he was very glad to do so. Another blessing for him to count.

“Alright, little warrior.”

Eventually, Tamima fell asleep against her father’s chest. He took a few moments to memorize this moment. To hold onto the relief, the content, and the agony that lingered between them.

Then he picked her up and laid her on her bed, just as he had in Daevabad and Zariaspa and in the camp and in their home in the mountains. He pulled off each of her boots and covered her with the wool blanket. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and retreated into the hallway of the inn.

Finally, he allowed himself to shed a few tears of his own. Truthfully, he felt much better than he had an hour ago. The catharsis he’d experienced after hearing his daughter’s burdens, after consoling her, had healed the gaping wounds that threatened to tear him apart. A fraction of his soul came back with that confession. He was not eager to speak with Irtemiz, but at the very least, he knew what to expect. He had Tamima’s advice.

_Tamima._

The tears flooded his eyes again. He had cursed her. There was nothing that could be done about it. All he could do was promise to be there to assuage her fears. The past couldn’t be erased but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try and fix what damage had been done by it. Redemption was out of his reach but not impossible.

Eventually, Dara returned to their room and found that in true Tamima fashion, she’d kicked off her blanket and was lying half out of the bed. He gently lifted her back onto the mattress and covered her again with the blanket.

Sleep did not come easy - and Dara feared that though it had been many years since he awoke screaming, he would do so again tonight. And Nahri was not here to calm him. He would need to weather the storm himself should the need arise. The idea of Tamima being faced with his terrors head-on with no aid from her mother frightened him. He was not her responsibility. 

But the nightmares did not come for him. He was out of their reach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end, folks :) Thanks for reading along.
> 
> Special thanks to astarisms and littlethiefs - you guys are too kind


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